Hunting the Jew Hunter
by CrystalDreams72
Summary: A story about Hans Landa and a woman. I suck at summaries, but I hope if you read it you will like it. I also suck at titles... If anyone has an idea for a better title, let me know please!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own IB but I wish I did lol. I just own Babette. Pease read and review, and please ignore grammar errors. So I rather love all of the IB characters and so far I am writing this one about Hans Landa and there is another one I am writing about Donny Donowitz. I might write more about the other characters later, and sorry to all who read my other stories, I need a break from them so I decided to write some IB stuff. Please enjoy**

She trembled as the cold went straight to her bones. It was only the beginning of fall, but she found it to be uncomfortably cold. She walked down the warn path through the woods, holding her arm as tightly as she could. She had been shot, and she didn't know by whom exactly. All she knew is that she had indeed been shot. The pain was long since removed because it was going on an hour since it had happened. All that was left was the fact that she was still bleeding profusely. She didn't know if it was just a graze on her upper arm, or if she still had a bullet lodged in her triceps. Her fingers were wrapped tightly over her wound, every now and again they would sink into the flesh. She couldn't gauge how deep the wound was, but she was sure it didn't really matter at the moment. She just kept her eyes forward, and her pace brisk. She was afraid to stop and assess the damage.

Earlier, she had been in her home, being questioned by German soldiers. There she had been questioned about her life. Of course she lied to them, telling them that she was a French woman who lived with her cousins in the Paris countryside. That was not the case though. She was a Jewish woman who didn't look Jewish so she lived under the noses of the German armies. She had perfectly forged papers, and she had been blessed from birth to have fire red hair and glinting hazel eyes.

She counted the fact that she looked different as a blessing, because when her family had been slaughtered at the beginning of the occupation, she had survived. She didn't know how others would feel about their survival, but she knew she counted it as one of her many blessings. She missed her family, but she had to see to it that she continued to lived for them.

She had a few other blessings that had come her way too. While she had been interrogated one of the German officer's asked her about something in the Catholic faith. It was a question that she hadn't been able to answer. She had just stared at the man and blinked a few times. He then asked her if she was sure that she was a Catholic French woman. She knew then if she survived, she would really have to study more about the Catholic faith if she was going to pretend to be a good Catholic woman. She never had to answer the question though, because moments later the room had turned into a natural hell zone.

Bullets flew every where, even one hitting her in the process. She had been able to scramble out of the room, but she didn't look back to see for sure if she had been saved, or if she were in for her life. She just ran as fast as her feet would take her into any direction that she considered safer than were she was. So now, she wandered the woods, bleeding. Her heart rate was up, making her arm bleed more. She needed to stop soon or suffer bleeding to death, a prospect that didn't set well with her.

She stopped a moment so she could catch her breath. After a few minutes she was on her way again. She wished she hadn't been wearing heels but she was. More than a few times her heel would sink into the soft forest floor, but she just kept going in hopes that she would get to a safe place. The woods were silent which she took as there was an ominous presence with her. She knew there wasn't but silence always made her feel funny.

She finally exited the woods just in time to see three trucks coming her way. Maybe that was the ominous feeling, she thought to herself. She cursed herself silently and started to try and retreat into the woods. The trucks slipped past her and for a moment she felt herself again lucky. Yet sometimes peoples luck just wears out. During this time…. So had hers.

The last truck stopped abruptly after it had slipped past her. She suddenly felt her pulse quicken faster than it already was racing. She was smart though, so she had to think. If it were Americans, she would simply tell them the truth about what had happened. If it were Germans though, she would just lie through her teeth. She had become quite the liar over the year, so she could continue without harming herself.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she waited to see if the truck would simply move on, or if she would be confronted. As she waited she started to feel her color drain from her face and she felt all the more weaker from blood loss. Be strong, she told herself silently. It felt an eternity of waiting until someone emerged from the truck. She looked up and in the slight distance, she couldn't tell what the uniform was, her eyesight was blurred and she blinked a few times in hopes it would help. It didn't though.

Her breathing was becoming labored as she tried to watch what was going on by the truck. The man who stepped out opened the door to the back of the truck and then another man stepped out. Her fingers itched their way into her wound and she hissed to herself. Hopefully, no matter who they were, could help her. She would proudly be helped by the German's for she would have the last laugh in that case. They would never know that they were so graciously helping a Jew.

The two men started towards her and when they got close enough they stopped and observed her for a moment. Now that they were close enough, she knew what they were. They were German. Time to lie, she thought as a pained expression passed over her face. They would never know that the pain she felt was because she was Jewish and they were German. They would just suppose that it was because she was hurt.

"Mademoiselle, you are hurt." said one of the men. He was a few inches shorter than the man standing next him, and a few years older, well more than a few. He had black hair was tinted grey near his ears. He was stunningly handsome, she gave him that much, and he had a deep voice. "Yes, I am." she said, trying not to succumb to the darkness that was now trying to take her now. The pain was creeping back into her arm.

"May I implore how you became the way you are?" the man who spoke the first time asked in prefect French.

"I was up this path, in a cottage where my cousin's live. I don't know what happened. Some German men came to do a routine check they said, and halfway through the check we were attacked by the Basterds." she lied. She didn't know who attacked them. But the Basterds were a hot commodity right now in France. Just mentioning them caused a riot. She knew she had said the right thing for as soon as the word Basterds had left her mouth, the man's face lit up.

"I was shot in the arm, I am not sure how bad the damage is but it hurts so much. I fled as soon as I could. I am sorry if I can't be more of a service. Please I beg you kind sirs, could you help me? I fear I am losing a lot of blood." she said as she started to sway to prove a point. She had to give it to herself, even in her time of need, she was a good actress.

They said some things in German that she couldn't understand and then the taller man moved forward and started to check her wound. She removed her blood soaked hand so he could see what he was looking for. He nodded and looked back to the shorter man. It didn't matter that he was short, he was still taller than her by inches. Her hazel eyes met his intense blues ones. Such wonderful eyes for a Nazi, she thought. They stared at each other a few moments and she felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck. He had such an passionate stare that she was completely obligated to keep looking into his eyes. She realized what he was doing though. He was using his stare to see if she was lying. For if she were a weaker person she would have confessed that she was a Jew. Too bad for him, she was not a weak person.

She had watched her family be killed, and she didn't even bat an eyelash. She knew that one day she would have her revenge. She could feel the need for it pulsing though her veins and out of her arm. So his concentrated stare meant nothing to her. Yet the longer they stared at each other, the more she felt suffocated by his presence. Who the hell was this man? She thought.

"Mademoiselle, do you perhaps have your papers on you?" he asked finally breaking their staring contest. "Actually I do. Right before the German's came to visit my cousins and myself, I was about to go to town for some groceries. They are in pocket under my bad arm. If you could… I can't reach it.." she said, sounding as if she couldn't help herself. She could have gotten him her papers, but she decided to play the innocent, helpless French woman who had been shot.

The man stepped forward and reached into her pocket. He removed her papers and looked them over for his own approval. "Babette Celestine Martine." he murmured. She had to say, for a fake name that she had made up on a whim, it was beautiful. "Well, Babette.. May I call you Babette?" he asked, trying to sound as pleasant as he possibly could. "Actually I like to be called Celest." she said as again she let another pained look pass her pretty face. He blinked a few times at her. For the briefest moment she thought that she saw the corner of his mouth upturn in a smile. As she looked at his mouth, she couldn't help but think he had very attractive lips. His lips were wide and not too full, nor not to thin. Very masculine.

She noted that this German was indeed very masculine and very striking. Yes he was an older man, she gauged him to be nearly 45 years of age, maybe even older. He had a few lines on his face near his eyes and around his mouth. It didn't make him look old though. It just made him look very distinguished. She hadn't ever been attracted to a man nearly ten years her senior, but if he wasn't a Nazi, she would have found him very hard to resist.

"Well, Celest, please let us help you. But first I must entreat you to take us to the place where this all happened." he said as the man who was looking at her arm pulled off his belt. She didn't know what he was going to do with the belt, that was until he buckled it tightly over her arm to stop the bleeding. She thanked them both, and almost instantly felt a little more color return to her face. At least they weren't going to let her bleed to death on this road that she didn't recognize.

"Yes, of course… I am sorry I don't mean to be rude but I do not know your name kind sir." she said, her voice strained with real pain this time.

"Oh no, Mademoiselle, it is I who has been terribly rude. Let me introduce myself. I am Colonel Hans Landa of the S.S." he said with a dashing smile as he stared into her eyes. His eyes twinkled handsomely. The look he had hoped for never passed over her face, she wouldn't let the surprise of finding out who he was come into play. She just smiled at him. "Well I cannot thank you Colonel Landa or your men enough for helping me." she said. As she kept her face passive though, her mind screamed: THE JEW HUNTER!

**So this has been sitting on my laptop for a while, as had the Donny Donowitz one I have been writing, and I just worked up the nerve to post a little bit of them. Please let me know what you think... If I can I might post the one about Aldo that I started writing, it is just I don't think it was reader worthy as these this one or the one about Donny. Thank you for reading!!!**


	2. Chapter 2

AN: So the beginning is Landa's perspective on meeting Celest. Please Read and Review. I hope you enjoy

"Stop the vehicle." called Landa from his backseat spot. His man that was driving looked up at him confused into the rear view mirror. "What?" asked the man without addressing Landa appropriately. Hans let it slide because he wasn't in the mood for such things today. It was a dreary cold day and it reflected in Landa's mood darkly. He ran a hand down the knees of his pants before he replied. "I said stop the vehicle. I saw someone on the road." explained Landa as he kept his eyes forward, staring at the rear view mirror, directly into the man's eyes. The vehicle slid to an abrupt stop and the driver turned his head and tried to see if he saw anyone on the road like the Colonel had said.

Landa aloud the soldier to look for a few minutes before he cleared his throat, signaling a man to let him out. The passenger stepped out of the vehicle and then opened the door for Landa to exit the backseat. Landa stepped out into the bitter cold air and rolled his shoulders, giving them more blood flow. He wore his black leather coat, so most of the cold was left out. He thanked his man and then turned his imposing gaze down the street where he had seen someone standing. As he looked around for the person, he pulled on his leather gloves. He wouldn't want his hands getting cold.

It didn't take but a moment to spot the woman who wore a hunter green skirt with a matching smoke jacket. In the distance he couldn't see much more about her other than she had fire red hair. He started walking towards her with purpose, for he was a man who always had a purpose, his man following close beside him. The nearer he drew the more he realized that she was wild eyed with pain. It reminded him of a wounded animal. Yet not just any animal.

He categorized her in his head instantly as a wounded tiger. Dark, fierce, and dangerous is what she was. He knew just by looking at her that she had a fierce attitude, a dark demeanor, and that she would be dangerous for him to be around. His hawk instincts took over as he stopped before her. This woman had to possibly be the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen wandering around the countryside, and possibly the only one who he had seen wandering around. He began to speak to her. When she replied to him, her voice was soft and lilting, music to his ears, no matter how strained her voice was with pain.

He gauged her to be around 30 something years old, maybe older give or take. The more they conversated the more he realized he didn't care what this woman had to say. He really wasn't in the mood for what this woman had to say. He only wanted to bask in her beauty, and think of other things that resonated in his mind. So she said she was hurt, didn't take away from the dark spark in her hazel eyes. Yes, this woman was going to be very dangerous for him to be around.

Her hair was tied back into a braid down her back, but even her hair couldn't hide the fact that it was a handful of unruly curls that would frame her face just right. Her face was long and angular, the way a French movie star would look. Her hazel eyes were as intense as his and he found out the longer he stayed in her company the longer he realized this woman had many of his same traits. As he stared into her eyes he almost felt compelled to tell her his many secrets. It was the same gaze he used on people he interrogated. It was his famous stare that told people that he already knew all the answers; he just wanted you to say them. That was her exact gaze as well. It almost unnerved him. His eyes slid away from her eyes and down her nose. Her nose was small, slightly upturned, and her mouth was set in full lips. She was the sort of woman that he would chase, if he were on the chase for women that was.

Then she said something that completely lightened his mood, for the most part.. For one she was hurt, and he always was the sort to enjoy other's pain. Second, she supposedly had been hurt by the Basterds. She said as plain as day that the Basterds stormed her home and killed all the Germans, and shot her in the process. A small smile graced his lips and then he let the smile slide away. They spoke a few more minutes and then she caught his gaze and held it. He no doubt thought she was lying to him about something and so they stared into each other's eyes. He couldn't help but feel more caught by her than her being caught by him.

Eventually he wanted to know more about her, more on a personal inquiry than for a business one. He asked for her papers though, keeping this as professional as he could. After a moment she asked him to reach into her pocket, playing the ever helpless innocent woman, which he knew that she wasn't. He had a knack for reading people, and since he already had the feeling that she was hiding something, he knew that she wasn't a helpless innocent. He reached forward and helped her. She smelt of sweat and forest, which was surprisingly not a bad smell for her he thought. Once he pulled out the papers that he had asked for, he looked them over with a detached eye. At this moment he didn't care if the papers were forged or really hers papers. Everything seemed in order though. Her name caught him instantly, such a delightful name. For only a second he aloud himself to smile, a real smile that wasn't forced or faked.

He wanted to smile more though, knowing soon that he was getting closer to the Basterds. Eventually he would have them in his hands and he would be even more famous. A swell of pride lit his chest as he thought about how wonderful it would be to bring the Basterds to their knees. He wouldn't do it because he was offended by what they did to Nazi's, he just wanted to glory of killing them. He wanted the self satisfaction of putting them under. But today he didn't feel good so after the smile had tugged his lips he set a scowl back on his face.

The ending result of his morning was going to the cottage in which she lived.

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He gently pulled her to the truck by her good arm's elbow after he had tucked her papers firmly into his jacket pocket. His long fingers were just barely touching her, but they left a burning sensation through her coat. The Jew Hunter was touching her. He wasn't just touching her, he was leaving his infected mark upon her coat. She refrained from giving him a nasty look as he pulled her gently along. A few steps away from the vehicle she swayed and he stopped to allow her to regain her footing.

She nodded once she was okay and he nodded back, playing the gentleman. She wished she knew what he was thinking, or why he had kept her papers. He helped her climb into the car, easy not to touch her inappropriately. She came to sit comfortably on the leather seat before she scooted closer to the corner to allow the Colonel to enter behind her.

Once he sat next to her, his heat engulfed her like a flame. His very presence was near suffocating her. It was okay though, she was determined not to let him bother her more than he already was. She was smarter than the Jew Hunter. Obviously she was sitting next to him and he was oblivious to who she really was. She wouldn't allow herself the smile that tried to creep upon her lips. She just kept her pained expression as she pointed the men to the cottage that she had called home.

The ride took nearly fifteen minutes, and the entire time thoughts swirled in her head, and the Jew Hunter's scent swirled into her nose. She didn't want to admit it, but she thought his masculine scent of leather mingled with tobacco smelled very splendid. It was comforting to her even if he was the Jew Hunter. She leaned back against the seat more comfortably and let herself ease into a sense of safeness.

She was safe though. She could tell that he had no idea what she was hiding from him. She was aware that he knew she was hiding something though. It didn't bother her though, she knew that he wouldn't find out unless she told him, and she had no intentions of telling a man who killed Jews for a living that she was a Jew.

The ride to the house was silent which she was thankful for. Her throat was dry and she didn't feel like speaking. The more they rode along she started to feel sick. Nausea swept over her and she swore she must have turned green in color. Landa glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. She smiled sweetly at him though, not wanting him to worry about her to the point he would talk to her. Then the truck rounded a corner and her cottage slid into view.

She hissed in pain for the loss of her home as they came upon the cottage burning to the ground. She had been so into her own thoughts she hadn't noticed the black acrid smoke rising to the air. Why had they burned her home? Tears pricked her eyes and Landa patted her knee sympathetically. She felt real emotion in his pat, but the emotion she felt was of a man who enjoyed her pain. So be it, let him enjoy her pain, she didn't care. Then her eyes dragged over the gruesome sight of the German soldiers who had been killed laying in a row in front of the house. Every one of them were missing their shoes, and missing their scalps. She felt frozen as she stared at their bodies. She couldn't bring herself to even look away.

Relief filled her heart. Good, more Germans were dead, she could have smiled. Yet instead she hissed again, tears flowing down her cheeks and turned abruptly to hide her face into Colonel Landa's chest. She felt him stiffen, as she shook against him. She shook with effort from trying not to be happy, she was good though, making the Colonel think she was sick from the sight before their truck. He smoothed down her hair with a hand and struggled with his own emotions. He should have been happy about what he saw before him. Yet this woman was making it hard for him to do so.

She wracked her shoulders as she let out a very believable sob. Landa hushed her before telling the driver to continue back to their quarters. It went without saying that while his truck left; the other two trucks would stay and start to trail the Basterds ferociously.

"Mademoiselle, it is alright to look now." he said as he shifted away from her. She nodded and straightened herself up. She apologized which he held up a hand to stop her. "It is alright Mademoiselle, I perfectly understand." he said with a smile. He was relieved though when she pulled away. He didn't like the way she fit perfectly into his arms. He had never held a woman that just_ fit_ him. He really had to push this smile on her, because unlike his normal chipper self, today he just was not in the mood, and his mood had just worsened by her. He at first blamed it on the cold, but now he was starting to think that it had to do with the fact that he had not had a good feeling about the day. Just like he didn't have a good feeling about the woman who sat next to him in his truck crying as silently as she could, that fit into his arms like she had been made to be there.

Of course she didn't know what was going on through Landa's head, but what she did know was that she had managed twenty minutes in his company and he still did not know that she was Jewish. She counted this a small victory in the war that was soon to follow her if she stayed in his company for much longer.

"Thank you Monsieur for helping me." she whispered as she glanced his way.

"It is no problem, I could not leave a hurt woman to fend for herself. You are rather lucky that I saw you on the road, my dear." he explained as he kept his stony gaze forward. She refrained from smiling. Yes, how very nice that I met you, the Jew Hunter, on the road. Let him believe that he had saved her life. She didn't care what he thought, all she knew was that her mind started to reel with ways to extract what little revenge she could on one of the most famous Nazi's in France.

She wasn't sure what she would do to him, all she knew was that she had a few days in his company to think. Like any perfect gentlemen, he would keep her in his care a few days before releasing her. In those few days, it would give her time to formulate the perfect plan. It would give her time to find his weak spot, and she knew he had one, everyone had a weak spot. As he stared forward, she caught herself watching him with still teary eyes. He was a devastatingly handsome man. If this weren't the war, and he wasn't a Nazi, she would have felt the urge to want to be with a man like him. Just the thought of that though made her stomach churn unsettling.

The truck jostled suddenly and she whimpered with pain. She grabbed her arm and closed her eyes. Good thing too, she missed the look of excitement on Landa's face. He enjoyed her pain ruthlessly. It somewhat brightened his day with this beautiful stranger that he was very wary of.

"Are you alright Celest?" he asked as he reached to look at her arm. She nodded and pulled away from him. He understood when someone just wanted to take care of their own pain, and this woman needed that time now. She breathed in and out of her nose and closed her eyes to concentrate on only her breathing. Soon they would have to stop and she could get some actual, well needed rest. She was hopeful that they would stop sooner than later. It took another twenty minutes until the stopped, and she found herself weaker than she had expected to be.  
She was tired from running, and the blood loss. She was slumped into a corner when the truck came to a stop. She glanced up long enough to see Landa's confused expression before she blacked out.


	3. Chapter 3

**It is as been awhile I know, and sorry that this might not be the best chapter, but the next one should be better I promise.**

She simply had no idea that being shot would make her so entirely sick. Once they had reached the estate that Landa was staying at during his time in the Paris country side, she had already passed out. Hours later she awoke in an unfamiliar bed wearing only a gossamer night shift. Sweat clung to her body like the night shift. Her hair was let loose around her head, giving her the appearance of a crazed sickly woman.

When she woke, she found herself in an intense amount of pain that she did not even care that she was not familiar with her surroundings. Her head lolled to a side as she tried to rid herself of her head ache. Her arm burned where she had been shot as if she had been shot again and again in the same spot repeatedly. Her chest felt as if a boulder was sitting upon it, making her breaths come out in short unsatisfying gasps.

She licked her parched lips in desperation to try and add moisture. It did not work for her in the least. She then tried to sit up, and ended up screaming hoarsely instead. She let herself relaxed into the mattress for she found herself completely, and utterly useless. She cursed herself and then she cursed the Basterds for shooting her. Yes, they did kill Nazis, which should make her happy, but they had also shot her, so screw them all.

Moments later she was joined by the mistress of the house. The woman burst forth through the door and gasped. "Ma Cherie, you finally awake!" said the woman. Celest blinked a few times and finally cleared her vision enough to see the woman who came to help her. "Ada?" asked Celest as her tired eyes roamed over the fifty two year old who stood before her. "Ah oui, Celest, it is me Ada." said Ada with a smile.

Celest forced a smile, feeling the least bit of comfort that she could to know she was more than likely in the home of Mr. Lefreve. His darling wife stood before Celest now, looking down at her. She was just doomed to be around those whom hated Jews. Mr. Lefreve and his wife Ada made it no secret that they supported the German Occupation, and hoped for the extinction of the Jewish race. It should really be no surprise that they would open their doors to the Germans and allow them to occupy their home the same way they occupied France. Rather disgusting, she thought, still forcing her smile.

"Aw, Celest, how are you feeling? You look very sick. I am glad to see you are awake now though, you have been out cold for two days now." said Ada as she drew a handheld mirror to let Celest look upon herself. She did indeed look very ill. She looked too thin, she was sheet white in complexion, and she had bluish circles under her eyes. Her lips were chapped bluish lips as well. Surely she was so sick to look like this, then that must mean she was close to death.

"You said I have been out for two days?" asked Celest, her voice hoarse and her throat scratched uncomfortably. "Oui my dear. Two full days." said Ada as she bustled around the room. "I think I feel feverish." Celest mumbled as she tried to drift back to sleep. Ada watched Celest drift for a moment or two. "I will go call for the doctor again. He said you would be fine, but obviously you are not my dear." said Ada as she started out of the room in a hurry.

Celest laid back and tried not to let her emotions get to her. She started to have a hard time remembering where she was suddenly as the fever gripped her tightly like an unwelcomed lover. She didn't know how long it took the doctor to get into the room. All she knew was when he finally came he rushed into the room. She blacked out through his tests, but when she woke she was told by Ada that infection had gotten into her blood. She sighed as she tried to eat but she couldn't.

Days went by in a feverish haze. Once she was sure the Colonel had come to check on her, but she couldn't really be sure. She probably just dreamed it, just like at one point she dreamed that she was back with her parents. She mumbled incoherently, which she was thankful for. She prayed in Yiddish like her father had done when she was young. She was glad she didn't pray in Hebrew, otherwise she would have been doomed. It was something she always thought was odd, she couldn't speak proper German, but she could speak some Yiddish. Finally when the fever broke she dry heaved for another few days. It was hell. Utter hell. Yet in the end she survived like she did everything. She thought that was what she was doomed to do, be a surviver.

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She sat up in bed with the curtains drawn open so she could see the storm. She was still bed ridden, but she was feeling better than she had in days. She had eaten and managed to keep the food down. Her color was still pale, but she had lost that bluish look on her lips and under her eyes. That was a major triumph according to the Doctor. He told her most people who get as bad as she did, died. She was not going to die anytime soon though, she knew this.

Lightening arced in the distance, illuminating the sky as it did so. It was a thick bolt, the kind that split off into many directions. It was highly dangerous but so beautiful. It was a few moments later until she heard the thunder that followed the strike. She liked it when it stormed.

"Good to see that you are up." said the familiar voice of Colonel Landa as he entered her room. Most women would have been appalled for a man to see them at their worst, Celest didn't care. She had no mind if he saw that he sweat soaked hair clung to her forehead, or her taunt grey cheeks made her look like a ghost. She didn't even care that she was only wearing a simple white nightshift. It might have been see through, but the lighting in the room was not bright enough for him to see through the thin material.

"I wouldn't call this being up, Colonel." she retorted as she turned her tired gaze to his. She realized the day that she had been shot she hadn't gotten a really good look at him. His hair was not black like she thought. More like a dark rich brown honey with light grey flecking his temples. His eyes were an ocean blue that swelled around her like a wave. He was entirely male in the most sophisticated way that she could think of. She could only think of a few real words to describe him: Pristine, Beautiful, and Deadly. Every fiber of his being screamed to her, and it screamed how dangerous he was. He was like a coiled black mamba ready to strike. Or one of those highly dangerous lightning bolts off in the distance. Too bad he wouldn't get his chance to strike, she thought.

His gaze locked with hers as he considered her words. Most women he encountered would have taken the compliment and then let him woo them. This wasn't going to be easy for him, he realized with a smirk. That was more than alright. He was Hans Landa and he liked a challenge. "I am merely remarking that it is nice to see that you are feeling well enough to sit up in your bed." he said as he entered deeper into the room, firmly shutting the door behind him.

He had expected her to be frightened to be alone in a room with him. She just looked completely passive as the door clicked shut. Everyone was terrified to be in the presence of Hans Landa, especially alone. "I thank you Colonel for your…. Compliment." she remarked as she turned her eyes back to the window.

"It must be hard to work in the rain." she said as thunder crashed in the distance.

"Yes, it is hard to do my job when it is raining. Hopefully it will sub-side soon." he said.

"I hope it doesn't stop." she whispered more to herself than to him.

"I don't, I won't be able to do my work if it doesn't stop. There is a lot of work that must be done too, I mind you." he said, not really knowing why he needed to say that. She was smart enough to know that he had a job to do.

"I don't care if you have a job to do Colonel. I above anyone else know that there is a lot of work to do. You must bring in the men who have done this to me. So, yes, I know you have work. That is not why I don't want the rain to stop though. I just enjoy the rain so very much, it reminds me of when things were simple." she said as she continued to stare to the window.

"Do not worry, I will bring down the Basterds. They will pay for what they have done to you." he said after a moment of thinking before he spoke. "I've no doubt of your abilities." she said as she looked back at him for only a moment before looking back to the window.

"I love the rain. It does remind me too of simpler times." he admitted and for a moment he realized he had let his guarded demeanor down in front of this woman. He was the one who was always cool and calculating. Always thinking before he spoke. Yet in that moment she made him feel human and he responded on impulse to her statement. He stared at her long and hard. He remembered how she had the same traits as he did. He knew she had a way to make others say things that they wouldn't tell anyone else. He was the same way, except he had never talked to someone so openly as he just did her. He was a man who kept his real feelings to himself and he had just shared something very personal with her.

It wasn't just that he told her he loved the rain. He had meant to say that he was glad that she didn't doubt him. He was going to tell her how it was a good idea to put her confidence in him, and all he had said was that he loved the rain. Which he really did love the rain.

"It is like music." she said with a weak smile as she looked up at him.

"The best symphony that there is." he said as he walked to the window so he could get a better view of the outside.

"I must say then Colonel, you have a good taste in music." she said with a gently sick smile.

"I have the best taste in music ma cherie." he said as he watched lightening arc across the sky towards the city of Paris. "I am sure you do Colonel." she whispered to his back. He turned around and looked at her with his intense gaze. He was met with her own intense gaze. His gaze instantly softened and he looked away from her to his boots. "I love the sound that rain makes when it hits terracotta roofs." he whispered.

Again, speaking without thinking. He didn't know it then, but later when he lay in bed alone he realized what a mental relief it was not to have to be calculating every bit of their conversation. To just let loose and just speak to her as if she were on his level made him relax. He didn't know that he was stressed until he was lying in bed. Celest was going to make a good stress reliever for him.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I feel that this chapter seems to be more fast paced, but I really kept trying to write this, and every time it ended up like this, where it was more fast paced. Also if there are mistakes, please over look them. I will probably go back and look at it, but honestly this has been sitting around and I am just going to post it so I can move on to the rest of the story. Please enjoy.**

Her arm was slow healing. She found that it was hard to raise it above being parallel to her shoulder. She had nerve damage by what the doctor had described. That would explain the tingling in her fingers and hand at times, or the complete numbness that she felt from time to time. Besides her arm, the rest of her body was still rather weak as it still fought off infection. Her time in the woods in the cold dank weather had not only made the wound fester, she developed an upper respiratory problem. She was still bedridden for she became to winded just making it to the toilet and back to relieve herself. She was beginning to feel stir crazy though from all the lying around she was doing. The doctor had been there earlier in the day and he wasn't impressed by the progress of her healing. Yet while she was still bed ridden and felt sicker than a dog, it had given her time to read the bible that sat on the table next to her sick bed.

It was almost like fate that she had been sick so she could try and read some of the things that she was not sure of. Things that she had been asked that she couldn't answer the day she was almost found out, she could now answer. She only figured it would be sooner or later before someone asked her such things again. She may not look Jewish to anyone, but during such a time people were wary of each other. It would not be long until someone stopped caring about her being sick, and started to question her story as to her life.

Maybe she would have a clean slate though, being shot probably helped her case. It could either look like a casualty of war, or it could very well look like she was shot on purpose and survived only on her own skills to run away. She hoped it was the latter because if it was then she could make it out that she was in support of the Germans in this war. Every day that she lay in this bed she devised what she would say if she were asked, as of yet she hadn't thought of anything that seemed feasible enough to be the truth.

She knew it would be easy to lie about the Germans in her home. She could easily say they hadn't found anything and were about to be on their way, which was pretty much what she told Colonel Landa, but they didn't speak often about it. This could give her more time to think of her back story. It was easy to say she was a cousin to the couple that had lived there. Luckily she had remembered the sweet couple she had met on her way out of Italy who lived in France while she had been on holiday. They had been Sophia and Pierre Martine. Once the occupation had started she ran straight to their home only to find it unoccupied. She took the advantage of this, saying that she was a cousin waiting on their return from the recent holiday they took.

She was lucky when Ada the very woman who she stayed with now came to the small cottage home to check on it. Celest weaved a believable story of how her mother was Pierre's aunt. Ada was the very person who told Celest that they were away on holiday again, this time in Germany. Celest acted as if she had already known, and Ada not being a particularly observant woman didn't even notice. Celest explained she had come to live with them to get away from the farm. After being in the house a few days she had studied up on the Martine's by their belongings. Pierre did have an aunt who lived on a farm with her husband in Austria. While there was no evidence to prove that his aunt had children, there had been no way to dispute that they didn't.

At first she had been very afraid that they would come home and find her. They had been very nice people, and they had even invited her to visit if she ever came to their town. Yet she understood that if they caught her they probably wouldn't like her staying in their home. After several month's it became clear that they weren't coming back. Ada had told Celest that at first she had been receiving regular letters of their whereabouts, but then the letters stopped. Celest understood all too well that they must have met their demise, casualties of war. Celest though used this to her advantaged. She had reassured Ada that they were well, and visiting Austria to see the farm that Celest had so called moved away from. She told Ada that she sent her parent's a letter which coincidently was great timing seeing how they were there visiting. They had put her in charge of the home until their return, which meant they no longer needed to write Ada.

At first the elder woman seemed a bit perturbed that they hadn't been thoughtful enough to send her a missive stating such a thing, but Celest assured her that they had sent one, that it was just due to the delay in the mailing system because of the war. Ada had nodded her head until it almost fell off, agreeing that such a thing must be true. A few days later Ada wrote a letter and made sure that it got to Ada explaining the situation.

While all this worked for simple townspeople. Would her story work on the Colonel? Only time would tell.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She didn't bother to hide the boredom on her face as the dreaded Jew Hunter entered her room, dressed in his full imposing uniform. She had heard the commotion downstairs when they had come in for the day. Usually he lingered longer downstairs, but today he came straight to her. She was starting see a pattern in his day. He worked all day and every day for the last four days he had come in around six at night to see her. It was nicer company than Ada, for Ada only spoke about Hans Landa. But when Hans Landa was with her, they actually spoke about music, literature, and movies. As long as it wasn't conversation about how imposing, impressive, polite, dangerous, or anything else Ada had said about him.

Celest had learned that he didn't really care for movies, which she loved them, but he listened to her intently as she spoke about them. She noticed how he usually hung on every word that came out of her mouth as she spoke about motion pictures that he didn't care about. For a fleeting moment one time she let herself forget who he really was and who she really was. She played into the façade that she was really Babette Celest Martine, the hurt French woman who was having casual conversation with just an average man who held a military position.

It didn't take long though for her to remember that she was really Elaine Leah Scholmit, a lucky Jewish woman.. She was lucky to be alive, something she would never forget. And he was really Hans Landa named a Colonel in the S.S. of the German Army. She was sure that her name was on one of his many lists of people he still needed to track down. She wondered if he would appreciate the irony that he was probably going to have to look for her one day, and here she lay, right under his nose.

The Colonel entered her room and gave her a curt nod like he always did and went to stand by the window. He took off his leather overcoat, and revealed his impressive German uniform that stood out like a pristine flame against the subtle tan walls. He folded the jacket over his arm and sat it down on the chair that was near the window.

Celest was not oblivious about how when he entered her room he looked stressed, and when he would leave today, he would look clear of mind, he had been doing this the last four days. Today he looked especially stressed out. His curt nod that he had given her, was given with a more of a stern look upon his face. She never asked him about work though because she wanted to be his friend on a different level. She wanted to draw him in before she tried to crush him. She wanted it to be a huge blow to him when he realized he had befriended a Jew. She wasn't sure when she had made this her mission, but it had become her mission in just the few short days that she had been well enough to put solid thoughts together.

She also didn't care about how his day really was. What would the Jew Hunter say anyways? That he had a hard day on the road searching out more Jews to eradicate? They hit a bump in the road and it threw off his concentrated stare? He shot a Jew and their blood got on his nicely shined boots? So it wasn't hard for her not to ask those questions about his day, or his job because she had absolutely no interest in knowing any bit of it. She only had interest on how his mind worked around things on a more personal level.

He stood at the window, staring out into the countryside, with his back to her. She sat back on the pillows staring at his back. His uniform tapered nicely to his shape. It gave her a good indication how masculine he was beneath the uniform. He was a handsome man and it was harder and harder to ignore that fact. Especially since she was stuck here in his company.

His jaw was sturdy, and naturally squared. His eyes were like a sea ready to swallow her whole if she wasn't protective of herself when he looked at her. She hadn't had the pleasure of touching his face, but she knew it would be smooth because he was always clean shaven. His skin was nicely tanned, a show of a man who actually worked outside. His scent of tobacco and leather he always carried around with him, which always caused her to inhale deeply to enjoy it. And the thing she found most attractive was the feathered grey around his ears in his perfectly groomed hair.

"So I take it you are a rather good detective," she said, finally bringing up his job for the first time. Except she just wanted to talk about how his work related to a more complicated type of work, not how it pertained to killing her people. It wasn't long until she knew she was going to have to show a tad bit of interest in his work or he would begin to become suspicious. She figured it would not be a good idea to live in the eye of suspicion of Hans Landa.

He turned and looked at her rather confused. She was the first person to understand that his job was detective work, not actually an angry hunter. He was rather ruthless, but his job had a certain tact to it, and his skills made him the best for his job. She could see that she had pleased him, which only served to please her in turn.

"I am excellent at what I do. I can find anyone." He stated with pride.

He held his chin up, swelling with arrogance in such a tiny room. She smiled and allowed it. "Like a blood hound on a trail," she said.

"No, like a Hawk after its prey." His voice was so assured that she actually felt proud of him. Such an awkward sensation, being proud of a man like him. Instantly she started to feel the guilt wash away the pride she felt for him.

"I bet it gets you all the ladies you want as well," she said changing the subject a bit. His expression changed from fulsome to confused, but only for a moment. He had been called a lady killer many times. He wasn't oblivious to his dashing good looks, or the fact that with his Nazi fame, came women to warm his bed. Yet really his silver gilt tongue always talked him into getting anything he wanted, as well as his imposing presence.

"Sometimes it is nice. Yet I am a man of intelligence, and I would rather value a sharp mind, than sharp looks."

She wondered if he would find a sharp knife to the gut to be just as appealing as a woman with a sharp mind. Or would he prefer it to come from a woman with just sharp looks? Her tingling fingers tingled anew with the want to be holding a knife.

"So it is true then, some men do value the worth of a smart woman. Would you be happy with a woman who is a smart as you? A woman who was just as good at what you do?"

He stared at her for a moment, unsure why she was asking him such things. His mind reeled from his day, and now from her questions. Their conversations were normally so uncomplicated, now they weren't.

"I wasn't aware that I being a detective was grounds to having a more intimate conversation about my relationships with you…." he said.

She smiled brightly and joked with him, "I wasn't aware of our many relationships."

He swallowed hard, knowing he was digging himself further into this game that she was playing with him. He didn't realize it until then, but she was baiting him for a game. He looked her into the eye, trying to figure out what she was doing. He couldn't though for the life of him. He was oblivious to the intents of this woman sitting in her bed, with nothing but a nightgown on. Maybe she had fever and was speaking irrationally. He was about to feel her forehead for signs of fever, she waved her hand trying to dismiss her comment.

"Pardon my jokes, I do not mean to offend. I just meant to ask if your position in this Nazi occupation has helped you get any woman you wanted, even the intellectual ones that you value more than a lady with sharp looks."

"I don't know if that is your business Ms. Martine," he said as he stared hard at her. She licked her lips and nodded her head. Just that little action of licking her lips made him look at her lips. When he first met her, he had found them attractively full. They had lost his interest when she had gotten sick, because they had taken on a bluish hue and had become rather chapped. Now, they were starting to look healthy again.

"You are correct Colonel. I just supposed that we were becoming closer as friends. You have visited me every day for the past four days. I would say you were here to check on me, or even interrogate me more on what I remember of my incident. Yet only one of those days you have asked about my wellbeing, and we haven't even spoken about that day. The rest of the time you come here to speak to me as if we were friends. Feel free to Colonel to correct me if I am wrong in my endeavor to learn more about my friend."

He straightened himself up taller and stared down at her, straight into her eyes. They held each other's gaze without either looking away. Neither was willing to break under the pressure. He had to hand it to the woman; she was on par with him. She was a lot tougher than she looked. And for her to be this tough meant she had secrets. Secrets that he wanted to know.

"Ms. Martine, tell me more about yourself," he demanded as he took seat next to the bed in the chair that his coat sat in.

"Tell me Colonel Landa, when have I gone from Celest to Ms. Martine in your eyes?" she asked instead of doing what she was told.

"I mean when you helped me on the road, you seemed ever so pleased to call me Celest, and now that I have been helped, you are no longer bothering with pleasantries. I am just not sure how to judge you." She clarified as she sat up in her bed some more. She didn't bother with making sure she was covered to his ever roaming gaze of her body beneath the thin material of her night gown.

He breathed in a sigh and realized that she was only his stress reliever for a short while, and he had been the one to take that little bit of happiness away from himself for trying to back track their friendliness. He had noticed that he was getting too attached to her company. He was trying to correct the mistake, yet she was weaving a difficult web around him that he wasn't going to be able to pull himself from this one. His lips twitched though into a small smile. He liked this game she was trying to play with him. He pulled out his pipe and started to smoke his tobacco. Two could play this game though. She wanted to get into his head, this he could now see, so he was going to relax, allow himself the pleasure fully of her company.

"I must apologize Celest. Work has been rather taxing for the last few days. I have been looking for this family; the Dreyfus's. You see, I am sure I will find them, I just am afraid I am running out of little country homes to turn over looking for them. There are a few more houses to search, and I assure you that I will find the diseased Jews hiding somewhere in one of those houses. I would even place a bet that they hide beneath the floorboards like the rats they are. Which if this is the case, much to my pleasure, ridding them will be most exhilarating.

"You see it is too much trouble to pull them out one by one if they are found this way. I take great satisfaction in just doing away with the filth through the floorboards. Let their bodies stay there, among the rats I say. The last house we found like this, with the family hiding ever so cleverly beneath the floorboards, my men just waltz into the house and turned the floor into swiss cheese. Not a one got away, and I can remember how great that was for me and my men. So until I can find the Dreyfus's, my days are sure to be spent in an upsetting manner.

"So I apologize Celest for not remaining the friends that we are surely becoming because of my own unhappiness," he explained to her with a too large smile on his handsome face.

It took every nerve in her to keep her composure. That is how her family had been killed, right in front of her, as if they were rats. She didn't have to hide from the Germans because she looked French, but her family looked Jewish, dark hair and pale complexions. She had seen her entire family annihilated right before her very eyes and now he was speaking about how he did the same thing as if it were nothing but a fly in the air to be swatted.

So here was the time though for her to act aghast by his story to save face. Or to really get beneath his skin and into his mind by remaining cool to his story. She chose the latter. Maybe he would blame this reaction of seeing those men killed before her by the Basterds, and being shot. She could only hope he thought that though.

"On the contrary, I would think dragging them out one by one would be better, that way you made sure that you didn't leave any behind, playing dead I mean."

She explained as if she were trying to give him advice on wearing his tie. He seemed to actually consider her words, which scared her. In reality though she thought it would be better to drag them out one by one so when you killed them, you had to look them in the eye, so forever their look would bore onto your soul.

He sat back into the chair and made a concerned noise like he had never thought that he could have missed one, leaving it to live. As if a Jew were an it. She watched as the few worry lines he had on his face upon entering suddenly started to fade. She was relieving his stress, while he added to hers.

She reached up and started to nervously play with a tendril of her red curly hair. She gently pulled on the curl, straightening the hair to full length, and then twisting it around her finger tightly. She continued to do this without realizing she was doing it as she stared out of the window, tiring of looking at the Colonel. He noted that her face seemed passive, but the twisting of her hair seemed to be a nervous habit.

"Celest, do I make you nervous?" he asked, wondering if she would be honest with him, or would she move another piece of their game.

"You made me nervous days ago. I had no clue if you were an enemy who would do away with me, or a friend. Turns out you happened to be a friend, and you have brought me to a house of friends so they can care for me. I am no longer nervous around the infamous Jew Hunter, for that is nothing but a title of a man who does a good job."

She did turn her eyes back to his while she spoke, and he could tell that nothing but the truth was uttered from her mouth. He relaxed into his chair, thinking of her words. He was a man just doing his job. She caught him by sudden surprise as she started to speak again.

"The Jew Hunter doesn't make me nervous. Hans Landa does."

"We are one in the same, I don't understand."

"No, there is the job title. Then there is the man that does his job and his skills are undermined by hunting what his employer considers vermin. You are a complex man, and eventually you will tire of hunting mice in the countryside. What will become of you then? What will you turn your focus on to entertain yourself? These thoughts make me nervous."

Her confession seized him into silence. There was a deeper meaning to her explanation. She knew he had no hatred for the people he hunted for one. He just did his job. How she knew all the horrid things he said about the Jews were just façade he didn't know. No one had ever gotten to understand him in such a short period of time.

"Maybe I will turn my focus on you," he said after minutes of silence. He thought to joke with her, like she had done with him.

"I believe you already have," she retorted.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: I think this may be my favorite chapter so far.**

He denied hearing the small thump in the hallway. This house he had learned a while ago was drafty and was prone to strange noises at night. What he couldn't deny hearing was the shallow gasping for air that followed the thump. Sitting up in bed with a deep sigh, he knew he was going to go check on whoever was in the hallway. He hadn't slept well at night, and this was just one more excuse to have a distraction to keep him from sleeping.

It wasn't like he was afraid to sleep. He had no bad dreams to speak of despite the horrific things he did daily for his duty to his country. No, it wasn't dreams, it was the fear that he wouldn't be awake in case another Hugo Stiglitz wanted to emerge. It had to be a living nightmare for many men in higher positions that their men would crack under the pressure of their obligations, and resort to internal violence among the company.

Before the Stiglitz incident he slept like a baby. Now, he was lucky to sleep more than three hours a night. He finally rose from the bed, donning a house coat, and went to the door. When he opened it, he was surprised to find Celest in the hallway. She stood next to the top of the stairs which was across from his room. She grasped the banister and was bent at the hip, panting as if she were a wounded animal.

He was at her side immediately. Before he asked her a series of questions he knew she would not be able to answer, he started to guide her back to her room. His arms wrapped around her thin waist and he could feel the outline of her ribs. That is when it dawned on him, she had been sneaking to the kitchens to get some more food. The doctor had been telling her to only consume liquids until she rid of the cough, but it was turning her thin and frail. He was instantly upset that she hadn't told him she was practically starving. He would have made sure she had more food to consume if she would have just told him.

She was able to walk a few steps before he felt her start to shake with the effort. Her room was at the end of the hall and he saw her looking towards the door in defeat. She had been so sure that she would be able to make it. Her breaths became shallower and he knew if he didn't get her back to bed a coughing fit would soon be on her. Without a second thought, or the care if she would mind him carrying her, he scooped her up into his arms.

An enraged gasp escaped her lips and he just shushed her as quietly as he could. There was no need for this to wake up the entire house. Her door was fortunately open so he would have to put her down. He walked into her room, shutting the door behind him with the heel of his bare foot. The door snapped closed soundlessly and he was at the edge of her bed in no time.

He sat her down in the center or the bed and helped adjust her pillows into a sitting position before he turned on the small table lamp next to the bed. When he looked back at her she stared back at him angrily. What did she have to be angry with him for? She was the one that claimed a few short days ago that they were friends, so she shouldn't have too much of a worry as to him helping her.

"You look like a child that didn't get her way," he whispered, as he sat on the edge of her bed. He reached out to feel her forehead, she had felt too warm in his arms. Yet when he touched her now, her skin was cool, if not a bit clammy with sweat. He withdrew his hand. Her look wasn't derived from him touching her. Otherwise she wouldn't have allowed him to touch her just then.

"Please, do tell me why you look so angered with me," he demanded softly. She was still breathing a bit shallow, so it took her a minute to gain enough strength to respond.

"I could have made it," she said, her voice shaking with effort.

"No, you could have hurt yourself, if you haven't done so already."

She narrowed her eyes at him. She opened her mouth to retort but he held his hand up to silence her.

"I know you don't want to admit it Celest, but you have been rather sick. I know you get tired of being here in this room, but it is for your own best interests. That I will agree with the doctor on. You caught a bad infection during the cold while you were running, plus when your arm festered it didn't help. Your body has taken a lot of shock from being shot, to watching others get killed, to being sick. It has only been a little over two weeks. I am sure by this time next week if you continue to rest, you won't be confined to this bedroom."

She sighed in defeat. He could tell by hard edge in her eyes she knew he was right, despite how much she wanted him to be wrong. He reached out and patted the back of her hand and made her promise him to continue to rest. She nodded her ascent. Finally her breathing had returned to normal, without a fit of coughing. He knew that her throat was sore from coughing because she was on the verge of losing her voice.

"Why were you up anyways?" he asked, even though he already knew. She nervously began to twist a strand of her hair that he was becoming accustomed to seeing her do when she was either bored or nervous.

"I was hungry, I hoped to find some bread and cheese to snack on," she whispered as if she were ashamed with herself for sneaking around like a rat.

"I will tell Madame Ada that she will start feeding you solids, you are growing thin. Why didn't you tell me you were hungry? I would have made sure you were fed more."

"It would have shown you that I am weak, when I am trying so very hard not to give you that impression."

In a very endearing action, he tucked some of her wild curls behind her ear after she stopped twisting the strands around her fingers tightly.

"You aren't weak, and you wouldn't have seemed so to me. And do not worry so much what I think of you, worry about getting better." He almost chuckled though. This woman was an enigma. She didn't want to seem weak, even though she clearly was because of her condition. He knew though, she just didn't want to ask anything of him. They had been becoming friends so to speak, plus it was his duty to care for her since he had been so eager to make his driver stop that day on the road, but he knew she wanted to maintain what independence she had in a situation in which she was under his care.

She had asked him just yesterday why he kept her under his care. She thought by now she would have been taken to the local hospital and then turned back over to her family. He told her he had more honor than that and would see that she was not only cared for rightly, but also that she was close by for when he brought the Basterds to justice. What he hadn't told her was that she was a mystery that he was intending to crack. He had looked into her story, which Madame Ada had shared with him. He told Ada that he didn't want to be taxing with the questions while Celest was in the state she was in. The old lady had told him everything she knew about Celest. So far the few things he had been able to look into, since there weren't many due to the house being a pile of ash now, her story rang true.

Yet if she was hiding something, he would be the one that found out. He was going to make sure of that, by keeping her around. He would be a liar though he didn't admit to himself that he also enjoyed her company. She was smart, quick on their conversations, and made him feel like he didn't always have to be so calculating, as if he was giving himself a break from having to analyze every move on the board of chess. It was as if the game of chess had turned into a team sport and she was his partner.

"Thank you," she said, drawing him out of his thoughts. He gave her a slight smile. "May I say something without offending?" she asked suddenly.

"Of course, I wish nothing more than unfettered honesty from you," he replied.

"I have been detecting that you are growing dark circles under your eyes, as if you are over worked, or not sleeping."

She was just as observant as he. He noticed she wasn't eating enough, and she noticed he wasn't sleeping enough.

"Not sleeping enough," he said simply, as if it was the end of their conversation, but it wasn't.

"Is it because of the Stiglitz incident?" she asked. Then she added, "Ada told me that she read of it in the paper."

He looked hard at her. Sometimes he felt that this woman was in his head, that she knew his very thoughts. She guessed so many things right about him, that it was hard not to believe she were a mind reader. He closed his eyes to escape her evaluating gaze. He had seen many a man do what he just did to escape his gaze. He never thought he would ever meet his match, but here she was.

"I think I would have a hard time sleeping if I were you in the position you hold after hearing about such a thing," she whispered when he still hadn't answered.

"You are correct; I haven't been sleeping, for that very reason."

"Truly you must be exhausted," she said as she with her free hand patted the top of his hand that still covered hers. He hadn't even noticed he had let his hand settle comfortably on top of hers.

"I am," he admitted. She had shared a weakness with him, so he shared his with her.

"I actually should make my way back to bed, to try and get a bit more sleep," he said as he went to withdraw himself from her room. She held quickly only his hand, and he sat still unsure what she was trying to do.

"I can sleep anytime, you could stay here and sleep, and I could watch over you. You would feel safer… I could sit in the chair, which would give me a chance to move my legs a bit, that way they aren't so stiff."

He was offended that she thought he needed to be taken care of in such a way. He was not a man who needed a woman to stand watch for him at night so he could sleep. He wasn't a child, and this wouldn't be the first time in his life where he had gone without sleep, and it wouldn't be the last. Yet before he spoke to reprimand her for saying such a ludicrous thing, he looked into her eyes. Nothing but pure innocence and concern lay behind them. He suddenly realized she didn't say it because he was an inferior person who needed a woman to care for him while he took a nap. She wasn't jesting with him like she usually did. She was being completely sincere and caring.

Despite that, there was still no way he would accept such a proposal. He wasn't going to hide out in her room to sleep. If one of his men were to go postal like Stiglitz had, he would be found in his own bed waiting for them, not hiding here.

"Mademoiselle you flatter me so with an invite your bed, but I must decline for I am a gentleman and wouldn't want to sully a lady's good name such as yourself."

"How do you know it isn't I who would sully your good name, Monsieur?" she asked, a devious smile playing across her lips. For a moment, even in the state she was in, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her jest though seemed to have some underlying meaning he wasn't grasping, and in that moment he didn't care. All he wanted to do was stay there, in this moment forever. Where he was completely free in her presence and she was just like the tigress he envisioned her as. The danger in her smile was coaxing him, like prey to a trap. He let go of the breath he had been holding and the moment was gone.

**AN: I don't want to sound conceit, but I do so love the way I ended this chapter. Please review .**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Another chapter yay! The next one should be up soon, just editing it. I hope everyone has been having great Holidays! No matter if you celebrate them or not**. **Enjoy the chapter and please review**.

She stared at herself in the mirror, satisfied that she was feeling better, even if she didn't look as well as she felt. Her cheeks were still hallow from the weight she had lost, but her color had returned and she was no longer confined to her room. It had taken two weeks instead of the one week the colonel had promised it would take. She had no illusions as to finding him guilty of something he could not control. Yet she was happy she never got to see the smug look pass over his charismatic face when he was right about something.

"I don't understand Ada, who is paying for this?" Celest asked the elder woman. She fingered the pale yellow silk of the finely made blouse that hade a round neckline with a large collar with lace trim. The blouse was neatly tucked into a matching silk skirt that ended a bit higher on her shin than she was used to. She had an outfit like this once when her family was alive, it had been a dark blue, and the skirt had been longer. The outfit had been very elegant and only was to be worn to dinner parties or events of special meaning. This outfit she was wearing now was from a series of everyday wear that had been delivered this morning. The seamstress in the room had to alter a few of the outfits she had tried on, but not too many because they were trying to now make her gain a few pounds.

The reason she asked in the first place was because she did not have the funds anymore, they had been burned with her pretend home, as well as the clothes that she had been borrowing from Sophia's vast collection of clothes. She also knew that Ada's husband had been showing her a kindness for granting her a room, but he wouldn't grant her a wardrobe of clothing fancier than what he bought for his own dear wife. Celest was a smart woman, already knowing her answer before she asked the question. Yet she needed to hear it confirmed aloud.

"The Colonel of course," stated Ada from the corner of the room as she looked over Celest's silhouette with admiration.

"I shall never be able to pay him back for such things, nor shall my family… I don't think I can accept these most generous gifts."

She had turned from her image in the mirror to look at Ada with guilt on her face. She could accept such gifts, and she could do it with a clear conscious knowing she was fooling Hans Landa. For appearances though she had to assume this was the natural expression and things she was supposed to say in the light of such things. Ada gave her a sympathetic look but waved her protest away.

"My dear young girl, he doesn't give you these things because he wants you to pay him back," Ada said. The seamstress laughed a bit, and Celest looked between them as if she didn't understand. She understood though, and perfectly. She was in her 30s and she was no shy virgin.

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Celest, her voice coming out nervously, and no longer strained because of a sore throat.

"Colonel Landa, he seems to be taken with you. These gifts aren't because he wants you to pay him back, they are just that, gifts. He wants you to enjoy them, while he gets to enjoy you in the things he has given you. Men do this thing all the time for the women they are falling for."

It was the seamstress who spoke instead of Ada. She spoke as if she knew above anyone else what the Colonel meant because of this gift. Yet, she should be the one who knew. She must see this thing happen all of the time.

"I suppose I have noticed the Colonel is fond of my company, but I wouldn't go so far as saying he is falling for me," countered Celest in a desperate voice. She had planned that he would get close to her, but that wasn't something she had thought about, him falling for her. He couldn't be falling for her. This must be his version of the game they had begun to play. She was hunting him, and he was now hunting her.

"Girl, that is fine Chinese silk you are wearing, and this isn't the only outfit made out of such rich material. The Colonel is also not a very rich man, not yet at least, but he spent a lot of money to get you these gorgeous things. He is falling for you."

This time it was Ada who spoke. Celest made a fist at her side out of the view of the other ladies. So far this had been her game, her rules, and now he was changing them. She could continue what she had started, but at the moment the move he had made was more in his favor. This meant he wanted to publically court her, outside the four walls of this house. A small smile began to spread across her face. The thought of his public humiliation appealed to her all the more, something she hadn't thought on before. It started with him saving a Jew, and now she could set this plan of her into something more personal. How would the Nazi Party feel about their Jew Hunter courting a Jew?

Her original plan was to draw him in, get close to him, expose him to what she really was. Despite him having no hate for Jewish people, this she had come to learn, he would still be upset with himself for consorting with the likes of her. He would feel like a hypocrite. Yet now, she could do the same thing but on a more intimate level and publically. Not only would it humiliate him, it would humiliate the Nazi party in general to find out their beloved Jew Hunter was courting a Jew. Yes, he thought his move was more in his favor for unlocking the mystery that shroud her, but it really only made her mission all the more important.

"Celest you are smiling, does the thought of such a man of his stature not frighten you? He is so very important, I think I would be afraid that his tastes would suddenly change or I would not live up to the image he represented."

Celest knew what Ada really meant. While Ada was in support of the Nazi Party, and allowed soldiers into her home, and catered to their needs, she feared the Jew Hunter.

"He does not frighten me, Ada. He is a kind, smart, and generous man. I am fortunate that he not only saved me, but now I am blessed that that he wants to be my friend. He can protect me just in case those men come back after me to finish the job they neglected to finish in the first place. I shall have to speak with him, to let him know that his gifts were too much, yet most appreciated. He has been too lavish. I shall accept them though for if it is his wish to embellish me with such finery then I cannot refuse. I still don't think he is falling for me like the two of you suggest. I think I am not the sort of woman the Colonel fancies. He had been nothing but a gentleman and hasn't given me any signs that he wishes more than to take care of me until the men who attacked me are brought to justice."

She hoped she sounded as innocent and ignorant to his real intentions as she thought she sounded in her head. Ada gave her a reluctant smile, but didn't fight the issue anymore. So she did sound as daft as she had hoped.

"When does the Colonel return anyway? I must thank him for all things he has done for me. I also haven't seen him in almost an entire week."

"He should actually be arriving here in a few hours before dinner," answered Ada.

He had left into deeper into the country six days before. Rumor around the house was he had finally found a few more houses that he was suspicious of, he was still trying to locate Jewish family that was unaccounted for. Apparently the houses he had left to look into had already been searched, but he had a feeling that he would find them where the other soldiers had simply over looked them for they didn't know where to look.

"The messenger had been nervous when he delivered the message, I think the Colonel hasn't had any success in locating whoever he is looking for," explained Ada as she started to help the seamstress put away the clothes into the closet. That was good, as well as distressing news. That meant the family was still alive, yet that meant the Colonel's mood would reflect his failure.

"I do so hope that the arrival of my clothes can quell his mood then," responded Celest automatically.

Xxxxxxx

This was the first time he had come back from working and was able to surprise her with his presence. She hadn't heard the ruckus of him and his men in the foyer upon their return. She was always so astute to their arrival, but she was lost in her turmoil of thoughts and the book she was currently reading in what the Colonel had turned into his personal study.

She sat in a velvet white high backed chair in the corner of the room, closest to the window. The book lay opened on her lap, her legs were drawn up on the chair beneath her. Her elbow rested on the arm of the chair, with her temple resting on her palm as she stared down at the book. Her hair blanketed around her face, obscuring her vision of the room, but not of the book. She found herself reading Brave New World, from the Colonel's personal collection. She had heard of this book once, and she had always wanted to read it, but when she lived with her father, certain literature had been banned from their home. She may have been able to do some things without the knowledge of her father, but reading this book hadn't been one of them.

She was so wrapped up in reading she hadn't heard him come into the study, nor had she noticed the five minutes he stood there and observed her. Nor had she realized that he sighed at the sight of her in her new pale yellow silk outfit that made her hair stand out more than it already did due to its own unique beauty. She didn't even know he took off his coat, hung it up on the coat hanger behind the door, nor did she notice he crossed the room to stand next to her chair.

He lightly tapped her shoulder and she jerked back to reality, shutting the book and dropping it in the process. She turned with her hands over her chest and looked up at him in a surprised fright. She wore a sensational smile that he was very fond of.

"You scared me," she teased as she dropped her hands and bent over her legs to pick up the book.

"That was not my intention," he said as he took the book from her hands and turned it over to read the title of the one she had. He nodded as if he were pleased with her choice.

"You look… ravishing," he said as he sat the book down on his desk. Her smile only widened.

"It is only because of your bigheartedness," she said as she stood and did a small quick turn so he could better view the dress on her. She looked marvelous, just like he thought she would. Yet he didn't anticipate that he would feel this strange tug that actually enjoyed thinking that he had made her happy for just making her happy. Not for whatever game they were playing. He hadn't bought her the clothes to make her happy though. He bought them for his purpose of bringing her closer to him so he could better figure her out. She was now even more indebted to his extreme kindness so she would not oppose when the time came for him to leave this countryside and her to follow him. He would figure her out and he doubted that he would be able to do it here in the time they had left.

For a moment a dark shadow fell over his bright face. He had again failed at finding the family he was looking for, but he had one more house to search, it was the furthest out in the country, a dairy farm if he wasn't mistaken. They had to be there, and if so his job here would be over, and he would move back into the city, until his new assignment came. This time next week or the week after depending upon paperwork he should be packing, and she would be too because he was making sure every way he could that she couldn't refuse following him.

"I do admit, I am surprised how great a quality the clothing is. I find myself at a crossways as to if I should accept or refuse such a kindness. I do not wish to be rude, but the clothes are so fine, that I can only imagine you paid a great deal for them."

"Accept them, because they are a gift from me to you, and do not worry about the price," he said as he leaned back against his desk. He crossed his arms over his chest and continued to stare her over. It was as if he couldn't get enough of looking at her.

"I find that you are too kind, Colonel."

"Celest we are friends, call me Hans. And I wanted to do something nice for you, plus you had nothing to wear since everything was burned. You couldn't spend the rest of your days until your parents receive your letters and send you funds in that shift that Madame Ada lent you. The thing was ill fitting anyways."

He had provided her with everything she needed. She had literally in all senses of the word received a new wardrobe. From stockings, undergarments, to dresses, coats, and riding clothes.

"How can I ever repay you Hans?" she asked as she placed both of her hands on her tiny waist. He could think of many things, and seeing her so lovely his mind wondered into the dark recesses of his mind. He was still angry, and now he found himself wanting to use what he had done for her to satisfy his carnal desires and forget his anger.

She instantly knew what he was thinking, and she knew eventually it may come to something of this nature. It thrilled her and scared her all at the same time. Almost like the first time she had ever been with a man. The guilt she had felt for not waiting until she married, but the curiosity for wanting to experience what she heard other women whisper about allured her. She felt the same again. The curiosity to experience such a thing with a man like him, but at the same time the guilt she felt for who she was and who he was.

He opened his mouth as if he had finally come up with what he would say to her, but she stopped him when she crossed the space between them. She placed a hand on the side of his face, and her lips brushed the other.

"I thank you again, and I will think of a way to repay you," she whispered into his ear, her face pressed to the side of his when she spoke. Her breath hot on his ear, her face smooth against his. She smelled of fresh cut lilies. She filled his senses and he suddenly forgot anything but her.

"I missed you," he admitted when she pulled away.

"I did you as well," she said as she smoothed her hand down his face before removing it.

Xxxxxxxx

She found him in the study after dinner and dessert in the parlor. He had skipped dessert, so it ended up just being Ada, her husband, and two soldiers, both of which watched her closely but kept their distance. She knew why, she had been branded as belonging to their superior. The whole ordeal had been awkward. She sat next to Hans at dinner, and he only spoke to her when she asked him questions, the rest of the time he only spoke to Ada and her husband. She hadn't been ignored by him, but she has hardly acknowledged.

For some reason she had thought he would be more doting to her, but he wasn't. She also got to see the colder, calculating side of him that she almost forgot he had because he was becoming so warm around her. While he was cold and calculating, he was so completely charismatic about the way he approached each and every subject. No wonder he was so damned good because one couldn't refuse him anything he wanted. He had but to tell them a descriptive story explaining why he thought the way he thought, and you instantly felt yourself swaying to the way he was thinking. Then when he asked what he wanted of you, you told him, knowing he already knew the answer, he just wanted you to confirm it.

He was sitting on the leather couch reading. His hair was disheveled, he wore glasses while he read; his shirt was un-tucked and unbuttoned revealing his white undershirt. He looked so normal. She knocked on the door framed and he looked up from his book.

"Yes?" he asked as his eyes glanced over her again. She caught him doing this all night, it was as if he couldn't believe she wore clothes so well.

"May I join you?" she asked. He nodded and she entered, shutting the door behind her.

"You skipped dessert," she stated as she came to sit down next to him on the couch. She became fully aware of his body heat and the face that he was sitting with his arm slung lazily over the back of the couch, which now touched the top of her shoulders. For a moment she wished she had took notice before she sat. She was so conflicted on how to feel about the man that she was having a bit of a hard time feeling comfortable with the closeness she put herself in with him.

"I did, I needed to be alone."

"Oh, well don't let me interrupt you," she said as she went to stand, using that as an excuse to leave. She was losing her nerve knowing he could sweep her into his arms in one movement with his arm behind her the way it was.

"Stay," he demanded. She nodded and settled back onto the couch, her shoulders again touching his arm.

"What are you reading?" she asked trying to distract the both of them.

"The same that you were reading earlier."

"Oh that is great, you should read to me then," she suggested as she decided to make herself comfortable. She wasn't going to be able to get closer to him without getting closer to him. She drew her legs beneath herself, her knees facing him and her side pressing against him. She felt him stiffen slightly at the contact, but she didn't miss the slight upturn of his lips.

He nodded and began reading. It was around the same place she had left off, which she was happy about. After a moment of reading she began to laugh. He trailed off and looked at her as if she had grown two heads.

"I am sorry, it is just you are so captivating when you speak. Yet you are reading that as if you are giving me orders. Here I will read to you instead." She took the book from him and saw him smile at her. She hadn't even noticed that she had given him a compliment, but she had.

She began to read, and he instantly became enthralled by her. It was about twenty minutes later when her own eyes began to grow heavy did she realize that he had wrapped his arms around her and had fallen asleep. She had become so absorbed in the story she never took notice that he had pulled her closer so he could lounge back on the couch with his head resting on the pillowed arm of the couch and she was practically lying on top of him. She cursed herself for not paying closer attention, yet this is what they needed if her plan was going to start taking root.

She observed his face, seeing the dark circles underneath his eyes had grown darker. He still hadn't been sleeping, so she couldn't bring herself to wake him up. She closed the book and eased it on the floor and then placed her hand on his chest. She felt his heart beat beneath the tips of her fingers. She stared up at his face, he looked at peace. She allowed herself to be happy for a moment with him. It felt good. Then she reminded herself who he was, and oddly it took a moment before she felt the overwhelming guilt that she always felt.

She wasn't sure when she too had fallen asleep, but she knew it was hours later when she woke. He was stirring, waking her in the process. She opened her eyes knowing exactly where she was and who she was with. He on the other hand seemed to struggle with his memory as to where he was and who she was. She watched as his memory flooded back to him. He didn't move though as he stared into her eyes.

"What time is it?" he asked sleepily.

"Early morning I suppose, sun hasn't risen yet," she replied as she glanced to the window. No light leaked through the drapes. He nodded and breathed in a deep breath. As he did his arms tightened around her and she was crushed into his chest. She made a slight sound of discomfort and he apologized as he instantly loosened the grip.

"Why didn't you leave?" he asked after observing the book neatly placed on the floor.

"I can tell you still haven't been sleeping, and I did not want to disturb you," she answered. By the sudden look up disappointment cross his face she knew that wasn't the answer he hoped for. She felt him start to disengage from her. She knew she may lose a bit a ground with him due to his already foul mood from his work by not trying to flatter him. It was a game to both of them, but he really had done a lot for her. She suddenly realized he was not a man who did a lot to flatter a woman, and he had gone above and beyond for her. It may have been to trap her for his own purposes, but she knew he also hopped it would make her a bit warmer around him.

She hadn't seen it before, but while they were deceiving each other, he really felt something for her. He wanted her to be more like him in his presence. He took a mental break around her, but she hadn't done that for him yet. She was still always looking for her next move with him. At this point the pieces could just fall into place if she just let them do so naturally. All she had to do was give him more of her interest, otherwise she would have to make up the ground she was about to lose when he got up and sent her to bed.

"I also didn't want to leave," she finally said.

As a result she snuggled closer to him and laid her head on top of his shoulder. She felt his arms snake tighter around her and she smiled. After a few minutes though, he let her go and sat up. She sat up and stared at him, looking as if she did not understand.

"We should retire to our rooms, otherwise someone will see us," he said, sensing her discomfort with him. He was being proper. She nodded and stood up from the couch and smoothed down the front of her skirt that had wrinkled from sleep. He watched her closely; she could feel his eyes burning into her.

"You are very beautiful," he whispered more to himself than to her.

She thanked him and bent down to give him a slight kiss on cheek. He took her hand after she pulled away from him, straightening herself. He kissed the palm of her hand and she felt the tops of her arms get gooseflesh. His lips were still on her now too hot skin, and he looked up into her eyes, gauging her reaction to him. She stood there a smile plastered on her face. What he couldn't tell was her heart was suddenly pounding wildly in her chest.

She then felt the very tip of his tongue, run down a line in her palm. Quickly as if she had been bit by a snake she snatched her hand away from him. It took everything she had not to outwardly show her distress. Yet she wasn't sure what distressed her, that the Jew hunter had just licked her salty smooth skin, or that she had felt like white hot lightning had flashed through her when he did so. Before she could question it more, she bid him goodnight and hurried away.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: So I like to change up Landa's name a lot. I sometimes call him the Colonel, or Hans, or just Landa. Just depends on my mood I suppose. So if it is distracting let me know and I will try to stick to just one name. I sort of feel he has such personality jumps though that it calls for a difference. That may just be me.**

He arrived early morning when the light first touched the sky. Landa jerked away from his report that he was over looking for the third time detailing his hunt of the countryside when he heard the loud knock from downstairs. He need not wonder who would call at this hour, only a Nazi would. He stacked his papers neatly on the desk, and then went to receive the guest. He stood from the desk, stretching his legs in the process. He was stiff from sitting and he need not seem over worked otherwise the caller would see him as weak.

The world was very much dog eat dog world, but the Nazi party was worse. There were many opportunists lurking in the shadows just waiting to rank up and become famous. The hangman had done it, actually making his very Colonel seem incompetent so he could rank up. When an opportunity presented itself they would seize it. Many saw him as the same way, but in truth he was nothing more than a realist. He never seized an opportunity where he was gifted something he did not earn from hard work. He earned everything to get to the point where he was in his career by earning it through his hard work. He never made anyone look bad to get what he wanted; he just made sure that he had better qualifications than they did. He bettered himself to get what he wanted, not belittled another to take what they may have worked hard to get.

He finished stretching his legs and exited his study. He noted that Celest's door was wide open, meaning she had already started her day, just as early as he had. She seemed like a woman that was not opposed to sleeping in, but she had spent so much in bed while she was stricken with illness he understood her need to rise early so she could stay out of her bed as long as she could. He turned to the stairs and started to make his way down.

When he made it to the final step leading into the atrium he found Celest already there. She was ordering the servants to bring some coffee into the parlor until the Colonel could be summoned. He was surprised to see her wearing one of the many outfits he had bought her. The weather was still nice, early fall by his guess and she wore a cotton Sunday dress that was flower print, consisting of multiple colors.

Yet he was more surprised at seeing was Major Hellstrom standing there, leering at the her. He had never worked with the man, but he knew of him. The boy showed promise, and here he was now a Major. Hans's instinct had been correct. If he stayed in with the Nazi party the young man would continue to climb in ranks. It would only be a matter of time before he too was a Colonel. Yet he stood there staring at Celest like she was a piece of meat that he was going to try and claim. Hans would not allow that.

The Major at seeing the Colonel snapped to attention, drawing Landa out of his thoughts. He acknowledged the younger man and gave him a curt nod, accepting his salute. Hellstrom then went to stand at rest until the Colonel joined them in the foyer. The Colonel moved forward, commanding attention just by his mere presence. He caught the curious look of Celest as she analyzed them. She was always analyzing him when he communicated with everyone but her. Alone she didn't observe him as much as she did in public.

"Colonel Landa, I come bearing orders," said Hellstrom.

"Then report," the Colonel commanded as he started to lead them into the parlor for the coffee that Celest had ordered for them.

"Your presence is needed in Paris as the head of security," explained the Major.

"I have work that is yet to be finished here," he retorted as he turned and looked at Hellstrom. He was waiting to receive the written orders. The younger man instantly drew the missive from his inside coat pocket and handed it over. Hans looked it over. It was an order straight from the Fuhrer himself. He was no longer to hunt rats in the country, he was to protect those in the city. With the ever darkening threat of the Basterds looming over them, the Fuhrer must think that Hans would be better equipped to find them from the city.

"It says I am not needed for another two weeks, which is good because it will give me time to finish conducting the work I have started here," said Hans as he pocketed the orders.

"You must have had a long journey, let us resume towards the parlor for coffee," suggested Celest with an ever so sweet smile upon her face. He was very proud of her; she hadn't been able to speak any German before he started teaching her. She wasn't the best, but she was smart and had a tongue made for speaking many languages, such as him.

The Colonel caught the longing in Hellstrom's eyes again as he smiled back to Celest. She seemed so oblivious to how beautiful she was, and how much men wanted her. He had seen how some of his men stared at her, but they never approached her because they sensed that he had already claimed her, and in a way he had. He was anticipating how she would react to Hellstrom if he made any advances upon her. The younger man seemed not to notice how Landa stared at her as if she belonged to him. It would be very interesting to observe their interactions, as she perceived him so closely.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

All day she witnessed the side of Hans that made him the imposing figure that he was. He was polite, cheerful, and manipulative. No wonder he seemed so exhausted that he had started using her as a way to escape. Now they were sitting at the dining table eating dinner. The residents of the house retired early, skipping dinner due t to the larger number of soldiers that surrounded the table.

She had wanted to do the same thing, feeling her skin crawl knowing she was so heavily surrounded by soldiers. Hans had asked her to join him, even instructing her to wear green. He had explained briefly that she was loveliest in green. At first she thought about not complying. Going against something so trivial just to show a sign of her rebellion against him would accomplish nothing. It would have served her no good, especially since she had started trying to escalate their friendship into something more.

If he wanted her to wear green because he thought she looked lovely in it, she would do it. She needed to please him. So she sat at his side, wearing a bright lime green dress that made her hair darker in comparison. She hardly ate though, her stomach tight with nerves. She had a smile plastered upon her face to the point her cheeks hurt with the strain. The lack of food in her system added with the amount of wine she was consuming made her feel fuzzy.

Several times she lost track of the conversation. She wasn't exceptional at understanding German, but she understood it enough to carry a conversation when her wits were about her. They weren't about her though. She not only kept drinking her wine she sipped upon the Colonel's when he wasn't paying her attention.

The more he sipped upon his glass the more he gestured with his hands while he spoke. He was far from a man being considered drunk, but she spied that the Major still hadn't touched his wine. The man was very serious, and for some reason she felt like he was observing the Colonel with a closer eye than she was. The Colonel could be compared to a hawk, maybe even a snake in her opinion. The man seated across from them was a wolf. He was sniffing out the prey he wished to track.

That prey was Hans Landa for whatever reason. So she tried to help the Colonel by not allowing him to become drunk in front of Hellstrom. So she sipped his wine, only clouding herself in the process. The few times she was able to capture their speech, she understood they were speaking about politics, once she thought they even spoke about the Basterds. She gave a sour expression during that particular conversation.

The Major noted her expression she saw. Just to further her act she reached for her healed arm and rubbed it as if she were remembering what happened to her. There was no more mention of it though. They spoke of other things, none of which she followed.

After dinner they ended up in the parlor, the men pouring brandy for themselves. The Colonel didn't pour himself one, which she was happy about. She was sure her skin was bright red from the amount of wine she had consumed. He spoke to some of his men while she found herself sitting on the side of the parlor alone with Hellstrom. He finally addressed her since they were alone.

"You do understand who he is, don't you Ms. Martine?"

She looked at him perplexed by his question. She stared at him, her gaze unyielding, seeing nearly into his soul. It was the same look of the Colonel. She witnessed him grow uncomfortable in her presence like she was suffocating him. She couldn't stop herself from the exhilaration that washed over her at the thought of her making a Nazi uncomfortable.

"He is Colonel Hans Landa, I do not understand why you ask me that."

There was a long moment of complete uncomfortable silence. All that could be heard was the men across the room talking.

"I meant do you know what they call him?" he asked.

"Of course I know what they call him, I am not daft," her tone undermined him.

"So the fact that he is the Jew Hunter does not bother you?"

This time it was her turn to become uncomfortable. When he gazed back at her, it was as if he knew her secret. He didn't though, this she knew. He was from the city. There was no possible way he knew. She figured his stare just meant he thought her relationship with the Colonel was more developed and that she should be sickened by his actions. Was that because he was disgusted by the Colonel? She thought not. He too was a Nazi. Maybe it was because she was a woman and he thought all women had a weak constitution? That must be it.

"No it does not trouble me. I know his work is for the greater good of the rest of us. He is a man doing his job, and he does it rather well. I should not fear a man protecting me, as well as others from such a threat."

Her words sickened her. She stood and without giving him a chance to retort she bid him goodnight. She then turned and walked to the Colonel. She waited patiently until he finished speaking. He glanced her way and smiled. She gave him a half smile and bid him a goodnight as well, feigning being tired. She was, from the wine consumption. Mostly now she found herself nauseated and needed to get away from the heavy Nazi stench that tainted the room.

He told her goodnight, bowed politely, and then kissed his cheek before leaving. She realized if the Major held any doubts of her relationship with the Colonel, she just proved her to be his.

Xxxxxx

She was almost asleep when he burst into her room. As soon as she sat up she could smell the brandy on him, even though he was across the room. She had done such a swell job of keeping him sober during dinner and she leaves him for two and he reeks of liquor. She turned on the light next to her bed and he shut the door behind himself. He then turned and leaned against the door and stared at her. His expression unreadable, but didn't stop the fear from creeping down her spine. She hadn't seen him like this before. He was a man who always kept himself so closely in check, and getting drunk seemed so out of character for him.

"Paris…" he whispered.

She pulled herself out of bed and walked towards him with her arms wrapped across her chest. She was wearing a thin nightshift and didn't want him to see more than he had before when he saw her wearing such attire. Maybe his intoxicated stupor scared her into decency she hadn't had with him before.

"What about Paris?" she asked.

"I want you to accompany me to Paris," he stated.

He staggered forward, and the smell of tobacco and brandy was cloying to her senses. He stumbled into her and she backed up a few paces until he regained his footing and stopped pushing his weight against her.

"You are drunk," she whispered instead of answering him.

He shook his head in a fierce denial to her accusation. Yet when his eyes caught the light he squinted to keep from glaring at the harshness of the golden glow of the lamp. She didn't argue, she just gently grabbed his elbow and led him to the chair that he used to religiously sit at by her bed when she was sick. He sat down heavily and when she went to draw away from him he grabbed her hand. They locked eyes and then his concentrated stare was on her. His expression was unreadable and unyielding. She hadn't seen this look from him since the day he had picked her up on the side of the road.

In that moment, he no longer looked drunk, but completely sober. The fine hairs on her neck stood up, but she didn't look away. He suddenly smiled and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. Again he told her he wanted her to go with him to Paris. She stayed quiet though, because he didn't ask her.

"I heard Hellstrom telling you about me, trying to scare you away from me," he suddenly said changing the subject. His tone held distaste, as if he wasn't fond of the Major. Again, he seemed so sober, staring into her eyes as if they were pools to all the information in the world he needed. "I do this thing, I always announce my title to people. I never did it to you. I never gallivanted that I was Hans Landa the Jew Hunter. I wonder if I had would it have changed how we treat one another. Would it have made you resent me and my obnoxious ways for having to tell every soul I come across that I am the Jew Hunter? Everyone who utters my name already knows, and I knew you already knew. From the moment I met you I didn't feel like I needed to truly make you understand that gravity of who I was. You seemed as if you wouldn't have cared. You acted like you didn't know me when I introduced myself in general, I was just any other soldier to you, and I never knew until now that I appreciated it. Then you seemed to understand that my title was not actually who I was, but just my job. I am not an opportunist like most men in this world, I am a realist. I stand behind the winning force, making a place for myself. Only you seem to understand that. You don't walk on eggshells around me, you are actually my friend."

Vulnerable. He at this time was completely vulnerable. Seeing him around others, she knew he was loathsomely self-centered, yet around just her he wasn't. What he had done will always be horrible, the things he has done to help the enemy. Yet she always knew from the moment she met him that he was a man who was just doing his job. And it was a job he did rather well because he was a detective at heart, reminding her of the great detective Sherlock Holmes, just more sinister.

"I need to be waiting for my parents to contact me, I am sure by now they have received my letters and have written back," she said instead.

"No, no mail has been sent unless it is war related," he retorted.

She of course knew that. She still had to look like the woman who had been hurt that was now waiting for her parents to collect her. The past week she had been in his office every day waiting for him just so she could ask if he had received any letters from her parents. She never forgot to keep her pretense of actually being Celest, no matter how close she was becoming with the Jew Hunter. It may just be a title, and a job, but he hunted her people. So she must be careful until she felt like she was sure to hurt his kind before throwing her life away. As of now she was safe as her plan was evolving.

"You never told me," she whispered as she tried not to focus on him massaging her hand gently. She liked how his calloused finger tips glided over the back of her hand. It felt so soothing and his touch was feather light, something she hadn't expected from him.

"I didn't want you to give up your hopes of hearing from them soon, the thought of hearing from them seemed to please you so much," he explained, a slight smile touching his lips. She wasn't sure why he was smiling, but she dismissed it.

"I owe Ada and her husband so much, I am sure they would take care of me if I stayed as long as I took to helping with the house."

"You aren't a servant," he snapped at her matter-of-factly.

"What will people think of me, a respectable single woman traveling in your company?" she saw it in his eyes that he already had an answer to her question.

"That you are under my protection because you were attacked by the Basterds."

His answer would be so simple, just like she knew it would be.

"So everyone who is attacked by them you personally see to their safety and recovery?" she asked. For a moment he looked uncharacteristically stumped by her question.

"No, but I do when the victim is a woman, the only one to ever be attack by the Basterds. It is the same thing I have told my very men when they wonder why I stick so close to you. I can also tell them that you are scared that they will come back for you and finish the job."

"But I am not afraid they will come back," she said.

"I take it you do not want to go to Paris with me," he said flatly. His expression falling into a dull straight lipped look as he turned his head away from her.

"Not if you don't ask. You said you wanted me to go with you, you never asked me if I wanted to go, nor if I would go. So I was thinking of good reasons not to go until you understood that my world doesn't revolve around you. You have taken care of me and have become my friend. But you aren't going to uproot me from my life here just because you wish me to go."

She hadn't thought her speech would cause him to become angry. Yet she could tell by the flicker of his muscle in his cheek as he clenched his teeth, and the way he was now clutching her hand, causing her fingers to go numb. The drunken haze to his eyes had returned, where it had been she wished she knew. He cleared his throat though and let go of her hand. He stood up and smoothed his hands down his pants. He then exhaled loudly and looked her in the eye.

"Celest, do you wish to join me in Paris?" he asked. He swallowed his pride for her. She had put him in his place, she wondered if any other woman had been able to do that to him.

She took a step closer to him, so she could feel his breath on her face. They stared at each other before she grasped both his hands into hers.

"Yes, I do wish to join you in Paris," she said, a smile on her face.

She reached up to him, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. She had been getting him used to her small kisses upon his cheek, but she was growing bolder. The other night she had kissed his brow, and now it was the corner of his mouth. He smiled and laughed.

"So then tomorrow I will leave to look at one more farm, and you should begin to pack your things," he said.

"It sounds like you have an early day then, you should go get some rest," she said as she drew away from him.

He nodded. Before he left though she grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. He turned and stared down at her, squinting slightly as if he was having trouble focusing on her.

"I do not want to go as the woman you are caring for because I am some scared sniveling woman you found in the woods," she stated.

"I don't understand, Celest."

"I want to go as the woman you are courting," she demanded. Her heart was racing as she spoke those words. Her skin felt uncomfortably hot and she knew she must be turning seven shades of red, redder than her very hair. This is what she needed though, to move her plan forward. She didn't want to go and always have to be questioned about the Basterds, she didn't remember much of the attack, the shock had repressed the memory she had come to learn.

"No," he said instantly with no thought.

She let go of his sleeve and stared up at him with her brows drawn together in a frown.

"I think you misunderstand our relationship," he tried to explain. She set her jaw and he could tell that she was angry with him. He had a reputation though, and if he was in the city he wanted to maintain his reputation.

"No Hans, I think you have been misunderstanding it. Get out."

She gestured towards the door with her chin. This woman was not afraid of anything he realized. Most women would cower to a drunken man, not her. She had bold words to say to him when he was in the state he was in. He suddenly wanted to know how she would react to an outburst of aggression towards her. He abruptly pushed her harshly into the nearest wall. He was on her in an instant and pinned her to the wall with his hands on either side of her face.

He held her in place with his own body, pressing his weight into her so she couldn't escape him. Most women would be crying at this point, not her. She just hissed in anger and struck out at him. She raked her nails down his face, but it didn't mark him because she couldn't get the momentum too. It hurt though, stinging fiercely. He grabbed at her hands and wrestled with her a moment before he had both her hands pinned above her head.

She panted with exertion, her chest rising against his chest. His scent was dulling her will power. He smelled so masculine to her. It never occurred to her how attracted she was to him, that was until now. Without hesitation she kissed him. This time not on the cheek, nor his forehead, but on his lips, her lips melted fully against his.

He tensed against her but didn't pull away from her. She took it as a sign that he wasn't against kissing her. She moved her head forward, pressing her lips closer to his as she tried to get more of a reaction out of him. Her mouth moved against his, trying to pull anything out of him other than stiff rigidness. At this point she half expected him to pull away and scold her and leave at once. Yet to her pleasant surprise his body softened against hers as well as his mouth. He started to kiss back.

His kiss set fire to her body. How she hated herself for it too. She craved this though, wanted nothing more than to feel his lips upon her skin. His scent filled her nose, she tasted his kiss. She wanted him, and she had for a while despite the horrible things he had done. She wanted the man, not the title. This moment in time she had the man she wanted. He let go of her hands, and cupped both sides of her face.

The kiss was intoxicating. She could taste the brandy on his breath, especially when his mouth moved against hers. He took charge, and she allowed him because she wanted to be possessed by this man. Her hands slid down to his chest where she could feel the slow beat of his heart. It was strange that his heart was beating so steadily beneath her hand, while hers leapt like it was likely to beat a hole through her chest.

She didn't have long to think about how he didn't feel exactly the way she felt because his mouth consumed hers. She felt every inch of him against her. His torso, his hip pressing into her stomach, his thighs clenched tightly near her very center. His breath mingled with hers as he opened his mouth to exhale and line the seam of her lips with his tongue. She gasped at the feeling and he invaded her mouth with his tongue, giving her a taste of him. The brandy burned her lips and mouth and he also tasted like his pipe.

A tingling sensation started in her stomach, and it was suddenly hard for her to breathe. Her chest felt like it was on fire and the tingling in her stomach inched its way down to her the core of her womanhood. She felt herself instantly growing slick between her legs. In response to her body she shoved him away when he least expected her to do so, while his tongue was sliding against hers, the tip dragging across the roof of her mouth.

He stumbled away from her. He caught his balance and then looked to her. She took in a deep breath and steadied herself from his gaze. She did not want to seem as if she was shaking from her body's response to his touch. She cared not if he could see the deep flush that stained her cheeks, or if her nipples showed through the nightshift, standing erect from the friction of where his chest had been against hers.

"Celest-" he began, but she silenced him with a hard look.

"I will not accompany you to Paris, and I think I told you already to get out," she stated as if she hadn't just fully enjoyed kissing him sinfully.

He took a step forward and she held her hand up to point at him.

"You dare not touch me again Colonel Landa, I am not afraid of waking the entire house with a scream for help. I am sure your reputation with women will help my case on why you are in my room in your drunken state."

He stopped and stared at her hard, his eyes again losing that drunken glaze. She could tell by his look that he had not expected this from her. He had expected her to follow along with all his plans like a sick puppy. She was not a puppy though and he was not her master. He may see it as 'how dare she bite the hand who feeds her'. That was not the case; he did a lot for her, nothing she asked for though so she did not owe him nothing more than her gratitude, which she had already showed him.

If she was correct though, he would give in to her demands. She needed him to present her as more than a mere victim. Here in this house everyone understood his affections were for her and she had growing affection for him. It was proven in the long hours they spent reading to one another, or the many afternoons they had taken picnic under a pecan tree. Once one of his men had caught the Colonel napping, using her very lap as a pillow while she played with his hair.

She fully expected him to say that she was his to court in the very public Paris. Yet his answer shocked her more than her kissing him had, which she was still shaken and wanting more of.

"Very well," he said before about facing and exiting her room.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Rewrote this twice. I had her have this long time in which there was just boring day to day living and it didn't seem right. So if it seems as if it jumps quickly it is because it does, and it is the only thing that sounded good.**

He left, leaving her with Ada and her husband. He had finally found the family he was looking for at the dairy farm. Rumor around the house was that a girl escaped him, but Celest knew he had let the girl go, why was beyond her. For all she knew it was merely an accident. Hans Landa didn't make accidents though, none that she knew of that was. The girl escaping was not an accident. There had been long hours after that she contemplated the why, but she wouldn't know his mind enough to figure it out.

A part of her thought that he wanted to know how a Jew would fare with escaping. Yet with the new job he was taking in the city there was no way for him to keep tabs on the girl he let go. Then another thought occurred to her. He had let the girl escape just to give the girl a chance. That didn't really seem plausible either.

If he was capable of such charity then there would be no reason she couldn't have marched up to him and tell him who she really was. All that would do would get her killed. These times were tough and the only way to survive was to adapt. To do that one would have to become a liar. Which she had become. Every now and again though she lost sight of who she used to be, especially when she recognized that she was developing feelings for the Jew Hunter.

It didn't matter though, two days after he let the girl run, he departed. The never spoke to each other again after she had kissed him. At their last dinner together she sat away from him, acting as if she could not bear his presence. The entire time she hoped he would have a change of heart, re-enter the game they had started together. Yet he kept his distance just like she. He seemed very committed to ignoring her.

The day he left, she almost gave in to apologize, but pride stopped her. She held her ground firmly and he walked right out of her life. He had kissed Ada on the cheek and shook hands with Ada's husband, thanking them for assisting him in his hunt through the countryside. They had been grateful to help and thanked him for allowing them to help. He then turned to her, his eyes unyielding as he started into her. If she were any other person she would have broken, but she wasn't anyone else. He took her hand and allowed him to spill pleasantries on meeting her before he placed a chaste kiss on the back of her hand.

There was nothing to say to him in her opinion so she just nodded her head. She could feel Ada's stare. The older woman knew something was amiss, but Celest was thankful that the woman would never mention it. She would hate to have to act more heartbroken than she actually was. If anything she was just upset that she may never get a chance to humiliate the Nazi party like she had been carefully planning this entire time.

It would have brought her sincere rapture to see the look on their faces when they learned that the Jew Hunter was consorting with a Jew. She was no fool to think that she wouldn't be killed for doing it, but it would have made her death sweet. As they locked eyes again she knew that her plan would also result in his death. For a moment she pitied the fact that she had not only been plotting her own death, but his as well.

He deserved to die though. Right? It wasn't her place to judge him, even her religion stated that. She would have had him killed right along with all the Nazi's. They were all murderers. Killing without a plausible cause, trying to extinguish a race of people that weren't a threat to them. It didn't take a fool to know that the propaganda vids showing what happened in concentration camps were purely false. As she had learned the enemy's language, she had learned the harsh truth as to what happened. She had never been delusioned into believing the vids, but she hadn't been able to imagine the sick cruelty that really went on there until she overheard some officers chatting about it as if it were the latest feature film.

Her mind turned back to the matter at hand as she watched him and his men walk out the door. She gave a sad smile then feigned sickness so she could retire afterwards.

She assumed eventually she would hear from him again, and she thought it would be soon. Three months passed, winter was creeping over the countryside of France, and nothing had been sent for her from him, not even a letter.

Just when she gave up all hope of her plan working out, a soldier came for her in the dead of night. There had been no warning. She was actually coming up with a plan to leave so she could escape into Spain. She was over staying her welcome where she was, even though Hans had left money to Ada as compensation. The soldier burst into her room and placed a black bag over her head before she could see him. She heard other soldiers enter behind him, rustling through her things.

It did not matter though; she knew what was going on. She was going to be taken to the Jew Hunter. She was going to see him again. Gooseflesh prickled her arms and legs though when fear bit at her stomach. She thought men would come, and she would be ordered to pack her things, moving to Paris. She hadn't expected to be black bagged like a criminal during the night, wearing only her nightshift.

She couldn't help but worry over her safety. There was no doubt in her mind as to where she was going. She was going to see Hans Landa again. Her stomach fluttered with the anxiety at seeing him again after so long, it had been three months. Yet the fear bit her hard and she tasted the bile that threatened to gag her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He sat behind the fine polished dark colored oak desk. There were piles of paper work littering the top of the desk. Most of the paper work was nothing more formality on him taking over the new position. Few had to do with uncooperative citizens that had rebelled against a few soldiers, some even of citizens with stolen papers. None of the citizens lived, but there still had to be a report that ran across his desk just so he knew about the incidents.

His head was beginning to pound just from the fact that it was almost noon and he had been sitting at the desk since before dawn carefully reading through the documents. He should break, but he knew he needed to try and use the time he had now to finish for the day. If he took a break now then when he came back later there would be more stacked carefully upon his desk. A great sigh escaped his lips.

The current document in his hand didn't catch his attention until he started to figure that the report was about the Basterds. There had been a small attack on a few soldiers. Some of them were scalped, but the job had been half done, and the Basterds never seemed to half finish a job. Yet as he read the report, that of which they thought was a copycat attack, the more he started to piece together that it was in fact the Basterds. A copycat wouldn't know all the details of how the Basterds operated. They usually removed the soldier's shoes, a fact that hadn't been released to the public, and this particular attack the dead soldiers' shoes had been removed. The attack had to be the Basterds, yet that led him to believe that they must have almost been caught in the act for they didn't finish the job.

Another thought occurred to him, the Americans had more than one group operating like the Basterds. Even if that were true they wouldn't kill the same way, they would find their own gimmick to strike fear into men's hearts. He scribbled his comments on the report, then put it into the pile in which he deemed the most important.

His thoughts and work were all interrupted when the door to his office in his new acquired home was slung open. Two soldiers under his command entered and dragging along with them by her elbows was Celest. She had a black back over head, binds around her wrists, and was wearing a dirty nightshift. From where he sat he could spot the rope had chaffed her skin to scabs, and the shift she had been wearing for what looked like more than a week.

This is not what he sent these idiots to do. He sent them to retrieve her for him, but not like so. His jaw clenched in anger at seeing her like this. If he could he would flay these men alive, but he couldn't. There was a slight tremor in her shoulders and for the first time he saw her utterly afraid. She still wore the black bag, but he could tell from the shake of her shoulders that she was scared. That only served to fuel his fury.

He stood, already screaming slurs at them for their incompetence. They both apologized profusely, saying they hadn't understood that she wasn't to be treated so. He explained that if she were to be treated like so they wouldn't have been instructed to pack her belongings as well. Again they apologized, but he turned a deaf ear towards them, he was too angry at seeing her like so without his order that he wanted to shoot the both of them on the spot. Instead he dismissed them, commanding them something trivial to do for their punishment for the mistreatment of her.

Once they left he took the black bag from over her head and looked at her. Her eyes were glazed over in hate. His chest tightened and he cleared his throat. What he thought was fear was actually her own fury. Why should she be scared? He wondered to himself. The fact was she wasn't, this he could now see.

He took careful precautions to unbind her wrists. The skin was raw and she suffered several scabs where the ropes had chaffed her. He lightly rubbed a finger over the area around the affected skin so he didn't irritate it. He took her by the elbow and led her to a couch. She allowed it and she sat down obediently when he told her to.

He left the study for a moment and when he returned he had a few bandages and some salve. He took the spot on the couch next to her and started to doctor her wounds with extreme delicacy so he wouldn't cause her more harm.

"I am sorry those idiots misunderstood me, ma Cherie," he whispered almost just to himself. It was like he had the thought out loud.

"Why am I here Colonel?" she asked instead of playing into his courtesies.

He cleared his throat again and averted his gaze to what he was doing. He smoothed some salve on her sores. He felt her eyes burning into him, and her skin was hot to the touch. She wasn't fevered, she was just angry with him. This he could tell the more he was in her presence. The anger left her in waves of intense heat of which he could feel.

"I thought this is what you wanted," he finally said as he looked up at her.

"Of course, I wanted to be stolen away. I wanted to be bound until my wrists bled. I wanted to be black bagged, and then dragged to Paris! That is exactly what I wanted! And if have you to thank for delivering me everything I could ever want!"

By the time she was done screaming she had jerked away from him and standing. She paced the room, with her hands by her sides in fists. He lounged back and slung an arm over the back of the couch. He watched her pace back and forth as she took to cursing him and his men in French. He couldn't help but be amused by her, but he didn't dare let her know he found her humorous. Yet the more he watched her he couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped him.

With a hiss of anger she turned on him. Her curly hair bounced around her face, and he couldn't help but marvel how long her hair had grown since the last he had seen her. She pointed at him accusingly, turning his thoughts away from his humor.

"What do you find so funny Colonel?" she asked in a harsh whisper.

"You are stunning when you are angry," he stated as if her were commenting about the weather.

The muscle in her jaw leaped under her porcelain skin. He should have stayed silent. With a quick movement she went for the door as if she were going to leave. He could tell she wanted to get away from him. To her disadvantage, the door was secured. She wiggled the handle and found that it wouldn't open. She turned and looked at him and he gave her a sad smile. He explained that his men had locked the door because they knew she and him needed to speak. For a split second he thought he saw dread pass over her face. Yet as quickly as the dread appeared it disappeared.

"I do not understand why I have been dragged here Colonel," she whispered as she gave up on trying to make her escaped.

"Our last conversation, you said you would come here on one condition: That you come as the woman that I am courting. At first I refused your demand. Upon further consideration I have changed my mind."

"That was months ago. And certainly before you had me black bagged. Have me taken back now. I do not wish to be here, this is against my will Colonel."

"On the contrary, I didn't order them to do nothing more than escort you here. They misunderstood my orders. They will properly be punished for their insubordination. And let us be honest, this is not against your will. The way you were brought may have been, but being here with me is not against your will."

"It was still months ago that I felt that way," she whispered as if she was losing a battle.

"I understand, and I may have waited too long to retrieve you. Celest, I do wish you will reconsider. For you are here now, and I will have a hard time letting you go back."

She glared at him. She waited for him to continue but he didn't. He supposed she was expecting more of a heartfelt apology, but that was all she was going to get. He sighed when he saw her jaw clench again and the anger flare behind her eyes.

"You wish me to reconsider something you couldn't even consider until three months later?" she asked. She stared down her nose at him and couldn't help but marvel in her beauty. She was an amazing creature when she was angry. He hadn't been lying when he made that confession to her. "In fact it would be nice to know why you even reconsidered in the first place. You had been so stern in your answer to me, and you just left. You haven't contacted me, you haven't done anything other than seemingly forget my existence."

"I missed you Celest," he stated simply.

The sincerity of his tone caught her completely off guard. She touched her lips and averted her gaze from his unyielding one. It was like the memory of their kiss had surfaced after he said those words to her. Usually she never back down from their so called "staring matches". Yet now she couldn't look him in the eye. He realized it was because she was crying. He instantly stood and went to her side. She took a step away from him like a wounded animal.

He whispered her name and she turned her back on him to hide her tears. He waited as he watched her shoulders shake from her silent sobs. Then when he couldn't watch anymore he pulled her to him, turning her around, and wrapped his arms around her.

"Forgive me," he demanded. His only response was her nodding her head that she would. He kissed her forehead before leading her back to the sofa so he could finish dressing her wounds. Tears still fell down her cheeks and eventually he kissed her tears away and told her to stop crying. He would never know why she couldn't stop had nothing to do with how much she missed him, even though she had missed his company. She couldn't stop crying for she feared when she found him locked in the room with him that he had figured out her secret for sure. She had been so certain that she was done for. So her tears were for the relief she felt. She had to fight so hard this entire time to act angrier than she was to hide her fear. Now all she felt was reprieve and she couldn't stop from crying.

**AN: I know for a while I was posting a lot on this story, but it may be a while between posts again because I want to work on some other stories, plus I am also working full time and I am also five classes. I don't have a lot of spare time seeing how I only have one day off a week from school and work. Just a heads up that it just may be slow posting again. Please stick with me though, I really enjoy writing this story, and I have had a lot of positive feedback, I don't want to let anyone down. **


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: I would just like to let my readers know that if it is on my profile, and it doesn't state hiatus, then I am actively working on the story. I don't have a lot of time to devote to fan fiction like I did when I first started writing. I am taking 5 classes, and recently found out I was accepted into nursing school so I have been having to run around trying to make sure to do all these prequalified things like go get finger printed, background check, drug test, etc... The point I am trying to make is I am not done writing. I just can't update as much as I or my readers would like. So while it is very flattering to know how much everyone wants me to update certain stories, I am not going to lie when I says sometimes it is a bit overwhelming to get private messaging where people flat out demand me to write. I was in an odd state of emotion between flattered and appalled. Regardless I accepted the passion that the reader had and tried my best to assure her that I would not be abandoning this story or the two others that she also demanded that I update. However I ask please do not be so pushy with me. I am only human and while I know it is so disappointing to start reading something you like and not getting more of it when you want it, but it is also just as equally disappointing for me that I want to write to get my ideas out there to share with all of you wonderful people, but honestly don't have the time after doing research all day with my research group, going to class, running errands, working on my independent research projects, going to meetings etc (right now I am going to a university for Psychology while I waited to get into nursing school and I am a senior, which is why I am doing all this research). And I fear my schedule is only going to get more hectic when I go to nursing school. So all I am asking is just please be patient with me because I am trying. I worked on this for the last few days as four in the morning to six in the morning to try and finish writing it and editing it. I encourage all of you to let me know that you want me to update, it does motivate, but I do ask not to make it demanding.** **Thank you all for your patience and your passion for my stories however! I hope you enjoy this chapter too! Please read and review! **

Fear seeded itself in the pit of her stomach as she sat in front of her mirror applying makeup for tonight's dinner. She dabbed the red lipstick onto her lips gently so she wouldn't apply too much, and she just couldn't help herself from shaking. It hadn't really ever occurred to her how terrifying her plan was until today.

It had been three days since she had been brought to Paris. After doctoring her wounds gently Hans had left her mostly alone except for attending dinners with her. Their relationship was certainly strained, and only time would change that. She had thought about picking up exactly where they had left off but she thought that would be suspicious. So she acted liked she needed time. Really she just needed time to think about her next move in the game they were playing.

They kept their conversations light and he never made any move to push things forward until she was at ease with being in Paris around him. Or that is the message she got from him. She was thankful for this for if he pushed she would give in, a sad fact that she was loathe to admit to even herself. But it would be easy to fall into being his woman and carry on her plan to hurry things a long. She reminded herself that she needed to stay patient, otherwise it could jeopardize everything. She needed him to make some of the moves too for this to all work.

At first she had been exhilarated that things were finally going her way that she was finding it hard to act like she was indifferent to his presence. She found herself wanting to smile and enjoy the fact that she had so far been winning this game that they had been playing. Today had made things different and it tore a giant hole of fear into her core. She had been woken by Hans before the first rays of light even touched the sky. The door squeaking open had alerted her from her sleep. It was only the sound of his distinct footfalls that told her that it was him and no other. She was happy that she had become accustomed to such a sound so she didn't react negatively upon his entrance. He came to sit on the edge of her bed and she rolled over to look at him in the darkness over her shoulder.

He had apologized kindly for the hour and then he had asked if she would join him tonight at a formal dinner that he had been invited to. She had said yes before getting to know more about the details about the dinner. He had bent over and kissed her temple. With that he left without another word about it. It wasn't until her dress had arrived that he had ordered for her and the maid was taking it out of the package that she learned that she was going to be attending a dinner at Werner Best's estate.

Immediately she felt sick when she learned that is where they were going. What made it so scary was the fact that Werner Best was a civilian administrator for the Nazi party as well as being an SS Obergruppenfuhrer. That meant high ranking officers would be at the dinner too. That was a lot of officers in one place. How was she going to stay true to her role as Celest while shaking the hands of men and women who were higher ranking than Hans Landa himself?

So now she sat before the mirror in the room she had been given next to Hans' room in the hotel like building that he and his men occupied, trying her hardest to stifle the fear that was eating at her. She had done extremely well this entire time while being around members of the Nazi party. However tonight would be a lot different. Her lower lip trembled and she stopped applying lip stick. It didn't matter how many times she told herself to be strong, she just somehow couldn't find the courage she needed.

She closed her eyes and thought about the only thing she could that made her infuriated. This she would have to substitute for courage; the death of her family. Very much like one of Hans' stories about how they killed Jews was the way her family died. They had been holed up in a small farm house with an elderly man who had promised to give them shelter as long as they helped him do things around his tiny farm that he could no longer do by himself. The charade they had at the time was that she was the man's granddaughter while her family hid beneath the floorboards.

She never caught the name of the Gestapo officer that had come in and questioned them. All she knew though was that they didn't question long until they just started shooting regardless of knowing if anyone was beneath the floorboards or not. They hadn't even bothered to look for a body count afterwards or even if there were anyone to begin with. They had just come in unannounced, spoke harshly to the man and herself then open fired into the floorboards. Then just as quickly as they had come, they had left her and the elderly gentlemen clutching each other in the ruin that was the man's home.

The terrible fact is that once everything calmed down she never reacted anymore than just moving away from the man to look through the holes in the floorboards. Looking back on it, she wasn't sure how she hadn't broken down into hysterics. She knew they were all dead because no one moved, or made a sound but her and the man standing behind her. The only one she ever saw was the deformed body of her father.

She kept that memory now with her, forcing herself to recall everything about the way he looked. It was her job to remember how rage ripped through her then. It wasn't long after just standing there committing her dead father to memory that the man told her that she needed to get far from France before she got caught up in the chaos as well. So she had fled leaving the man to deal with what was left of his home and the battered bodies of her family, but she didn't ever for a moment want to leave France until the month ago where she was doubting if she would ever have her revenge. She was already caught in the chaos when her family was taken from her. She couldn't turn back now.

Sitting there stone still she let the memories wash over her again and again until the anger extinguished the fear. It wasn't completely gone, but suddenly she had a new resolve and when she opened her eyes again she remembered her purpose. She wanted to torment the Nazi party by humiliating them. She wouldn't have been able to do that if she didn't break her bread the Nazi elite. She squared her jaw finished applying her makeup.

The maid had already helped her with her hair, she decided to wear it in a half up and half down sort of style. She stared at herself in the mirror and didn't seem to recognize who she was anymore. It wasn't because her hair was longer than it had ever been in her life, nor that she was wearing it in a style she hadn't before. She was no longer the sweet daughter that her parents had raised. When had she stopped being Elaine and started to become Celest? She had never been an innocent person that was for sure. She had her fair share of regrets, but she had been good and that was the point. The person she was pretending to be she was starting to realize she was becoming, and she wasn't sure she liked Celest. She had been pretending so long to be Celest that it wasn't all pretend anymore. Who was the one who wanted to see the downfall of the Nazi party? Was it Elaine or Celest?

When she couldn't answer she began to worry about her wellbeing in this charade. Who was the one who liked wine with her dinner? Who was the one that liked riding horses? She couldn't remember the things that she had made up and things that had been true about herself because she had been pretending so long now that if she hadn't liked wine with her dinner beforehand, she was fond of red now. And it had been so long since she had ridden a horse that she couldn't remember if she had ever enjoyed it. It was the small things that was bothering her so.

And more importantly; which one was it that craved the attention of Hans Landa? She stilled her movements as she had started to dress, to look at herself in the mirror. She was too startled that she gasped. That was the only question that she could indeed answer. Elaine wanted him to the point that it felt like a need. Over such a short period of time trying to destroy his reputation she had somehow developed... she didn't think of them as feelings. What she was doing would kill Landa, and even herself. So what she developed for the man was more along the intense need to possess him the way he wanted to possess her. She knew that was what he wanted. The last three days the way he looked at her was so intense that it had left her breathless several times.

There wasn't anything she could really do but accept that was the way she felt. She finished dressing and about the time she needed help zipping the dress, Hans was opening the door to her room. The maid would have knocked, so she didn't turn to acknowledge him as she struggled with the zipper.

"Let me get that for you," he whispered, coming up behind her. She stopped struggling and let him zip her up. She was thankful that she was wearing a slip beneath the dress that way his knuckles wouldn't brush against her bare skin. Once he was finished he placed his hands on her arms and steered her to look at herself in the mirror. The dress that he had chosen for her was a dark hunter green. She hadn't been surprised when she received it this morning and it had been green. He liked her in that color and she admitted it suited her well.

The gown was made with green silk, and satin-backed silk, making it lightweight and carrying a small sheen in the lighting of the room. The bodice was fitted to just below her breasts and then the dressed flowed down from there. Over the silk a darker colored chiffon with bead work was sewn into the fringe and rhinestones lined the seams of the dress. It wasn't very busy, but it was very elegant with its square necked collar and its short sleeves.

"You look lovely," he stated matter-of-factly to her.

"And you look handsome," she stated, catching sight of him dressed in his best uniform. She hated what the uniform represented, but he looked so dashing in it regardless. It was so unfair that a man such as him was so charming and handsome with the reputation he held because of the job he performed.

With his thumbs, he started to rub the back of her arms. She knew one of his thumbs was running over her scar from the gunshot wound but she didn't feel it. He seemed to become occupied by her scar that he took a moment to study it. She couldn't really see the scar unless she held her arm at an awkward angle or craned her neck, but she knew it was a thick white scar that marred her flesh quite drastically.

"If you hadn't been shot I wouldn't ever had met you," he stated. His thumb stroking the scar like it was her best feature.

"You sound sentimental about it," she said jokingly. She wasn't sentimental about it. She had repressed many memories about that day because it had hurt so much when it happened. Even now she had problems from time to time. She was dealing with nerve damage and that ranged from pain, to numbness. As of right now, she still didn't have any feeling in her ring finger or her small finger though both fingers still functioned.

He just made a noise, ignoring her taunting. He just bent his head down and kissed the scar. She wanted to be able to feel his lips on her skin. A shiver ran through her and it was from the anticipation of such a thing happening. At first she hadn't given much thought to just how close their relationship could become. Now she was anticipating it. The thought had never occurred until after he had left that she was pushing for their relationship to advance. At first she said it was just to get him to keep her near and court her. Now she was realizing it was because she was attracted to him and wanted him.

He stopped kissing her arm and then moved to kiss her shoulder. His lips were warm against her shoulder. Before she could reach back and touch him, he drew away from her.

"I am sorry," he said. He was apologizing for kissing her.

"It is okay," she whispered as she took a step away from him. She could see him in the mirror, and he was staring at her. Without thinking she started to twist a tendril of her hair. It was a terrible habit of hers when she was bored or nervous. It just happened that she was nervous. She couldn't help it. Tonight would be the first time he was publically showing that he was courting her. Not only would they be surrounded by the elite, tonight she was going to ruin his reputation of being a bachelor. She had to do so too, it was apart of her plan. Which plan that was she wasn't sure. The plan to humiliate the Nazi party? Or her sudden realization that she was legitimately trying to have the Colonel to herself?

"Don't be nervous," he said, flashing her a dashing smile as she turned to face him. Silently the way his eyes scanned over her, she could tell that he was picking up on her personality.

"I can't help it, this is our first outing together," she said. She stared at him for what seemed like forever. Both of their gazes unyielding. Finally it seemed like he understood the gravity of what she was trying to convey to him. When he introduced her to these people tonight he wouldn't only be telling them that she belonged to him. Her personality in this game was very much like his own. Therefore tonight he would also be saying that he was hers. The look that passed over his face looked very much the same as when her cousin finally understood that he was getting married. The gravity of the situation dawned on him last minute.

They weren't getting married, but with her living ten feet away from where he slept at night, he might as well tell every man, woman, and child in a hundred mile radius that he just got married. The sole reason he hadn't wanted her to come as the woman he was courting was because his reputation as an esteemed bachelor. He was fond of his reputation, he had told her so before. After this it wouldn't be the same. Silently she was telling him just with her look that she wouldn't just be the woman that he courting for the evening, and no one at the party tonight would think that she was just some fling. Tonight Hans Landa would become hers and he would never the be same man after her either. Once she was out of his life and if he survived, women would know how easy a target he really was after her. This she would see too.

"Don't be nervous," she repeated back to him, using his words against himself as she raised a finely shaped eyebrow. His eyes narrowed at her. She had gone through an array of emotions tonight, and would more than likely go through many more, but at this moment she was dangerous. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but for the first time since she had met him he didn't seem like he had a firm control on his emotions.

He was breathing faster than usual, and she could see his pulse leaping from the artery at his throat. She had never seen him with a racing pulse, not even when he had her against the wall those three months ago when she was kissing him. It took everything she had not to smile wickedly at him. As she was about to ask him if he was ready to leave he reached out with a firm hand and grasped her chin. He forced her to look up at him. His sea colored eyes were dark and stormy. Fear is what she should have felt. It wasn't even close to the emotion she was experiencing. Excitement coursed through her, but she controlled herself and waited to see what he would do.

His grip wasn't gentle but it wasn't bruising either. She wasn't sure if he was angry, but when he backed her into the wall, his hand still on her chin, he leaned in so his lips rested on her ear. His free hand found her waist and he dug his fingers into the curve of her waist.

"Don't dare start something that you can't finish," he whispered into her ear. Now it suddenly made sense to her. She had excited Hans Landa once he realized he wasn't just claiming her, that she was claiming him. It made him want her all the more. Women wanted him in the past, this she was sure of. Yet had any woman just wanted Hans Landa? Or did they want the Colonel called the Jew Hunter? Like her, he had someone who he was, and someone he was pretending to be. There was no mistaking which man she wanted. She wanted Hans Landa. She wanted the man who was intelligent, calculating, cunning, and unyielding. The part of him that was called the Jew Hunter was just the part of him that was loyal to his job, and she would accept that part of him as long as he was loyal to her. This game they were playing would end with them both being dead, but she would make him hers before they died.

"Don't take me tonight if you don't want me to finish this," she whispered back. She couldn't stop herself as she reached out and placed her hand on his chest. She could feel his heart hammering so hard against his chest that she suddenly felt like she couldn't stand. To keep from falling, he clutched his shoulders with both hands, which only pulled him closer to her. His body became flush with hers and she began to worry that they wouldn't make it to the dinner. There wasn't a way for him to hide how excited he was because she could feel his erection against her hip. He groaned, and she sighed. There was a moment when she realized that she was trying to keep her distance to seem unsuspicious, this had naturally taken place though and felt right.

His hand that had been on her chin now rested on her throat, and she was happy that her pulse was steady. His lips pressed to the shell of her ear and her breath hitched. His breath danced across her skin and she felt weak again. Her hands traveled from his shoulders to his neck and then one of her hands traveled into his hair where her fingers tangled into his hair. Feather light kisses trailed from her ear, down her jaw, and finally his mouth sought hers.

His mouth slanted over hers. His mouth was so hot that it started a heat that burned through her entirely, flushing her skin from head to toe. His lips were a happy medium of fullness. Not too think that she couldn't tell if he was kissing her or pecking her, and not too full as if he were kissing her mouth, chin, and nose. No his lips were perfect and fit to hers as if they were made solely to kiss only her. His head tilted at an angle that her hand tangle more into his short hair, and his mouth pressed harder to hers, expressing his desperation at wanting her.

When she opened hers up to him as he licked the seam of her lips, she got to taste the mint and tobacco on his breath. Gooseflesh covered her arms and sides as his tongue like hot moist velvet slid languidly into her mouth, and her own eagerly met his. He tasted so good. She found herself pressing against him, her breasts mashing against his chest to the point that one of the buttons was pressed painfully against one of her erect nipples. She hadn't ever been overly fond of men touching her breasts, but as they kissed that little friction of the button against her nipple was maddening. She found herself wanting him to pinch the bare flesh against his calloused fingers until she begged for him to soothe the pain with his intensely hot mouth.

Arousement started to spread from her breasts to her core, and then to her most intimate parts. A heat started radiating off her, and it took little over a minutes before she was growing wet between her legs. Her clothing became the barrier that she needed to get out of. Finally her body was catching up with the situation. She was feeling a bit disoriented with her want of sex, her body was flushed and hot, and she couldn't stop her heart from hammering so hard that she was starting to exceed Hans' own erratic pulse.

For a few minutes they continued slanting their mouths over each others, tasting each other, and battling each other. Then abruptly he broke the kiss when she tried to grind her pelvis against his erection. She nearly growled when he stopped that it made him chuckle. Usually in moments filled with passion, if the man stopped it was enough to extinguish the flame of desire in her because they stopped. This wasn't the case for her at all right now. She wanted more and she wanted him now.

"We are going to be late," he whispered when he looked down into her angered gaze.

"I don't care," she said as she brought his head back down to where she could kiss him again. He allowed his mouth to mold over hers just for the moment, but then he began to stiffen, and there wouldn't be a situation where she won this small battle. Tonight was obviously an important night in his career and as painfully obvious for him that he would rather take her to bed than go, his erection told her this, they had to go. So she tasted him one last time before she let him go. "But if it is something that you are worried about then we don't need to waste time."

"We don't have to stay long if you don't want to," he suggested. She immediately knew that he was fishing for a way to get her back here to finish what they had started. She herself wanted to finish it now, he was already ready, and they could just be late to the dinner. Yet that was just her opinion.

"Don't make promises you can't keep Hans. You know as well as I that we will get there, and then after dinner you will have to report and we will be there longer than either of us would dream of being there. I will more than likely end up coming back here by myself too because important business will come up and you will send me off because my presence will distract you." Her tone was dejected, she knew that, but she couldn't help it.

"You pay too much attention for your own good," he whispered with a sincere smile.

"Which is precisely the reason you find yourself so enamored with me," she teased. He reached out and touched her arm, his fingers sliding over her scar. She had been right, that scar of hers was sentimental to him.

"You are going to be the death of me," he joked, wearing the realist smile she had every seen on his face. In that moment he looked like he was at peace. Nearly like a man who would admit that he could love a woman like her.

"I plan on it."


End file.
